The Spy Wore Red. Wendy Rosnau
Odell was going to die screaming. Die screaming while he cut him apart with a dull ice pick and fed him to a dog with a fork.
Mady reached across him and pulled the door shut. As she eased back behind the wheel, he caught the sweet scent of her. She smelled like lavender and a hint of lemon.
He studied her delicate features within the folds of her ugly brown scarf a shade darker than her wool coat. He had instructed her to dress warm, to borrow Jakob’s SUV, and to come alone. She had done all three.
For a woman of thirty-six, Mady still had a youthful pixie face, and the blond hair peeking out of her scarf held no signs of gray. It was still a natural honey color, and as silky smooth as the day he married her.
“Drive,” Holic demanded. Then he added, “You didn’t tell anyone I was back, did you?”
“Nein. Not even Prisca. She will be excited, though. For weeks she has been asking when you were going to come for a visit. Are you sure you want to go to Groffen?”
“I’m sure.”
She put the vehicle into drive. “We’re very busy. It’s the height of the season. What if—?”
“Someone sees me? You forget I can disguise myself easily if necessary.”
“Why did you want me to meet you here in St. Anton, then? Why not Kitzbuhel or—”
“I have my reasons. Did you ready my suite? The one I requested?”
“I did.”
“Then there is nothing to worry about. If I must flee, I will take flight. I always have a backup plan.”
“Prisca will be so happy to see you.”
“I do not want her to see me for a few days,” Holic grumbled. “Not until I’m better.”
“Your daughter will not care what shape you are in. Only that you have come home. And for once I think it will be good for her to see that you are human. You have filled her head with grand stories. She talks of you like you are a hero in a fairy tale.”
“There is nothing wrong with that. She will never know the truth.”
“I know the truth and I still love you.”
“You are a rare breed, Mady. Some would say stupid, others would say blindly loyal.”
“I’m neither stupid nor blind. You have seen to both. What I am is a woman cursed to love one man for all time.”
They left the town of St. Anton behind, and as they began to head toward Zell am See, Holic asked, “How is she? Is my daughter well?”
“Prisca has grown into a beautiful young woman. Otto Breit has come home from Graz often, and swears that one day he’ll take her away with him.”
“He is ten years older. Too old for my Pris.”
“She’s nineteen. I was seventeen when you took me.”
Holic scowled. “What are you saying, that Otto Breit is sleeping with my daughter?”
“Nein.”
“Good, ’cause if he is I will kill him, no matter if he is my friend’s son.”
“If you confine your daughter, she will grow restless. She must experience life. She is very smart and I trust her judgment. She needs something to nurture.”
“Not a babe.”
“No, I didn’t mean a child, but something that she can be proud of. A career of some kind. We could send her to school.”
“I will think on it. Speaking of nurturing, how is the runt? Is your brother’s bastard still amusing Kovar?”
“Her name is Alzbet, Holic. And, da, she is still at the lodge. Kovar is teaching her to ski. Though she suffers from a cold at the moment. But don’t worry, I will keep her away from you. You don’t need a cold to compound everything else. What is wrong with your hand? You never told me when you called.”
“A few broken bones is all. My hand will heal.” Holic set his jaw at the thought of his hand remaining useless. Bjorn Odell would pay either way.
He glanced out the window to the rugged countryside. He hadn’t been back in Austria for months, and he realized he had missed it.
“Did you get the package I sent you six weeks ago?”
“Da.”
“And did you follow my instructions?”
“I bought the computer, and the money is in the safe at Groffen, along with the canister.”
“Did you bring me a gun?”
“You know I hate guns.”
“Did you bring it?”
“Yes.”
Holic smiled. “Is it loaded?”
She glanced his way and frowned. “Of course it’s loaded. It would do you no good if it wasn’t.”
“My thoughts exactly. And just where might this gun be hiding, Mady?”
With his good arm, he reached across the seat and slid his hand into her coat. He saw her suck in her breath as his fingers brushed over her breasts, then moved low over her belly and between her legs.
“Bitte, Holic. Not while I’m driving. It is reckless and—”
“Shh… I will touch you whenever, Mady, and wherever. You know I will. Now drive and stay on the road.”
“The gun is in my coat pocket,” she offered, as if that was going to stop him from his intent.
“A good place for it, for now,” he said, finding the zipper on her jeans. Ten minutes later, he removed his hand from her underwear, pulled the dead man’s hat off his head and tossed it in the back seat.
His long hair hung limp and damp with fever, slightly diminishing his well-noted rugged handsomeness. But he was still a virile specimen of male masculinity and he knew it—after all, he had the look of a pirate and the reputation to go along with it.
He reclined the seat and relaxed, the scent of Mady and her spent climax hanging in the close quarters inside the vehicle. When a shiver took him, Mady flipped the switch on the heater and a blast of warm air filled the front seat.
He was just beginning to doze off when he felt her hand on his forehead. If he wasn’t mistaken, the SUV picked up speed after that, and he smiled again with the knowledge that she did love him no matter what he did.
As the miles came and went his thoughts turned to Groffen. They would arrive sometime tomorrow. Mady would get him there, he had no doubt. After all, she had taken a vow to obey her husband.
Loyalty then…it was the most powerful insurance a man could own. Mady was one of two people he could trust—she and Pris. Yes, his daughter loved him as much as Mady did. But unlike her mother, Pris wasn’t afraid of guns.
A smile touched his dry lips and suddenly he had the answer to his daughter’s dilemma, and possibly his own. Pris had the patience for it, and she valued perfection. Those were an assassin’s two best friends.
Nadja stood below a spotlight a hundred yards from the Learjet that sat on the tarmac at Prague’s Praha Ruzyne Airport. It was almost midnight and what gear she had packed fit into a compact carry-on. Whatever else she required she would purchase once she arrived in Austria.
A sharp wind blew out of the west, carrying more snow. Nadja wrapped her red cashmere cape closer to her body.
The weather forecast had predicted a major snowstorm for the Alpine region. It would be good for the ski lodges, but not for much else. It could easily bring the mission to a halt for days at a time if the storm stalled out in the mountains.
“Our