Covert Alliance (11 page)

She didn’t hear back from him immediately and figured he was probably at that meeting on his security watch. That was fine. She felt certain she would hear from him eventually, and then they would talk.

She had the time to talk to Judge Treena now if she could reach her, but she decided against it. Her nerves were frayed enough at the moment without having to defend herself the way she would to Her Honor.

A couple of police cars drove by, but all seemed well in this popular area. Once Kelly reached the Haven, she let Ella know she was back and handed over the cash Alan had given her for the lunch.

“Good job,” Ella said, making Kelly smile a little. At least she had done something right, and making her boss happy, even for this brief moment, felt good.

Then, as much as possible, she shrugged off the rest of her fragility and anger and all the other emotions that had swept through her on seeing Baranka in Stan’s presence—not to mention spending a little not-so-quality time with Eli—and transformed herself back into her role here as a server.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. And smoothly. They were busy but not overly so, so she was able to move her mind from everything else, at least somewhat.

Despite all the care she was taking to change her mood, it must have shown somewhat since Tobi, and particularly Lang, jabbed at her every time they could—good-natured teasing that she knew was designed to cheer her up.

She shot gibes back at them, even as she wanted to thank them, even hug them, for being so nice to her. Or not nice, as the case might be.

Kelly was careful not to mention to Ella that she’d been gone as long as she had because she had joined their customers for lunch. It would negate the tiny bit of praise Ella had given her earlier. Ella had rules that she imposed on her staff, and fraternizing with customers like that during business hours was frowned upon, even though being friendly to them—and even flirting with them in those sexy uniforms—was just fine despite the contradiction there.

Though Ella did comment about the length of her absence, Kelly said simply that she had helped to serve Councilwoman Arviss and her guests, without mentioning who those guests were—or that she stayed for a while.

She kept her phone in her pocket. She wasn’t surprised to feel a vibration at a time she wouldn’t have chosen, when she and Tobi were taking orders at a table of two senior couples whom Ella introduced as some of her parents’ closest friends—in other words, they were to treat these seniors like family, take good care of them and make Ella proud.

“Yes, our chicken potpie is wonderful,” she told the elderly gentleman she had been waiting on, even as the tingling vibration at her hip stopped. “It’s made fresh, of course, and our customers always rave about it.”

“Have you ever tried it?” the man asked, aiming a squinting gaze up at her.

She’d tasted some of the filling, though not the crust, so it wasn’t a complete fib to say, “I sure have. Wonderful!” she repeated.

“I agree,” Tobi added from across the table. “It’s one of our best customer favorites.” The other server winked one of her pale hazel eyes at Kelly.

“Let me have one, then,” the man said, nodding with a firm expression on his lips that suggested he had made the most important decision of the day.

“I want to change my order,” the other man said. “I’ll try that pie, too.”

“Of course.” This time Tobi’s expression was an exasperated eye roll that made Kelly want to laugh. But she held it in.

In a minute, they had finished taking the orders, and both hurried toward the kitchen to let the busy chefs know.

“What a group,” Tobi said, her voice lowered. “No wonder Ella likes them. They’re like her—full of orders and changes.”

“Exactly.” Kelly was hoping to slip away for a minute after they’d turned in the orders so she could check her phone, but she had the impression that Tobi was in a chatty mood.

Fortunately, though, once they were in the kitchen and the chefs had gone over the orders and promised to get to them right away—after Tobi informed them about the priority of these particular customers—Lang came in.

“Just got a big group in the front,” he said. “I’ve already moved tables around, but I need some help.” The paunchy server looked from Tobi to Kelly and back again.

“I’d be glad to,” Tobi said, just as Kelly had hoped.

“Me, too, but not for a few minutes,” Kelly added.

“Sure,” Lang said, then turned and waddled out the kitchen door.

Tobi hurried to catch up with him.

Kelly headed down the hall toward the ladies’ room.

No one else was there, so Kelly immediately removed her phone from her pocket. She opened a text from Alan: Lunch and dinner together on the same day? Sounds great to me. I’ll bring takeout to your place at 7:30. See you then.

She felt a huge grin spread over her face. She was definitely getting together with Alan. All business, of course. They had a lot to talk about, even though he might not realize it.

Takeout at her place? He hadn’t asked her to text her address. But Alan was undercover. In security. He undoubtedly knew where she’d lived before, when she was Shereen. He’d also be aware of Stan Grodon’s address. So was Kelly, of course—unless Stan had moved Eli and himself away after “losing” his wife.

Maybe Kelly should find out about that. She obviously couldn’t ask Eli, although she wanted to—and if they’d moved, to learn what her nephew thought about it. She would try to ask him that subtly sometime, somehow...

But for now, she could ask Alan where they were living.

And Alan, being who and what he was, most likely already also knew where the woman now known as Kelly lived. She’d test him by not providing the information unless he asked for it, though she suspected he wouldn’t.

But she would see him that night. That was the important thing—for her safety. Her peace of mind. Her happiness of the moment.

She was absolutely looking forward to it.

Chapter 9

T
he meeting was over at last. Alan stood in the hallway outside the conference room at one side of the door as the occupants exited, talking to one another but ignoring both him and Dodd, who was at the other side of the door.

Alan had done his official Blue Haven security thing and, with Dodd and others, kept close watch on the hallway outside the occupied conference room as well as the room itself.

He’d communicated off and on with their boss, Nevil, and other members of the security detail via cell phone to confirm that no one saw anything out of place. He had even talked to the Blue Haven police chief, Arturo Sangler, in coordination.

More important—to him—he had listened to what was going on during that meeting whenever possible.

There was nothing exciting, unfortunately. He didn’t know who all the players were, except for Stan Grodon and a couple of other city council members—both men with loud voices and opinions they clearly wanted everyone to hear.

And the other participants? Men and women in suits who appeared to have businesses in Blue Haven. But nothing particularly noteworthy was brought up at the meeting—just some upcoming events like a county fair and a separate proposed music festival.

They obviously all knew one another so there had been no introductions, at least none Alan heard. Maybe it would have been more interesting if he recognized the people and the business interests they represented. Presumably, Grodon and the other city council folks were wooing local businesspeople in the hope they’d contribute lots of money to those proposed, and undoubtedly costly, events. Maybe to their next political campaigns, too.

But to Alan this was a waste of time, at least when it came to his real reason for being here.

It had been a kick, though, to trade text messages with Kelly, despite having to be careful when he read hers and responded. It was one thing for a member of the security detail to talk on the phone or text with others on the job, but he didn’t want anyone to catch him doing something considered unacceptable—a black mark against his reputation here. To do it all, he needed to be perfect, or at least appear that way.

But he’d worked it out, and now he had something to look forward to—for the sake of his real mission.

The fact that he was meeting Kelly for dinner very soon—alone, at her place—well, that was a perk of sorts, but he reminded himself that their apparent relationship was simply part of both of their covers.

No matter how attracted he was to the woman, he never forgot that she had done the one thing he found intolerable. Kelly had broken promises and disobeyed orders, even though she thought she had good reason to.

Instead, she should have asked for help.

He would need to keep that in mind when he was with her that evening.

* * *

Kelly wished she knew what kind of takeout food Alan was going to bring to her apartment. Not that it mattered. But she had just gotten home about ten minutes earlier, removed the headband she usually wore to control her hair at work and changed into comfortable dark slacks with a lacy brown top she particularly liked—especially because its neckline was low but not revealing. She was now fussing around the one-bedroom apartment’s small kitchen, where a table for two was located.

She had set the table with napkins, flatware and water glasses. She wished she had a bottle of wine. Would Alan bring that, too?

She still hadn’t heard from him except to confirm he would be there around seven forty-five, ten minutes from now. He didn’t ask her address.

Now it was her turn to get ready for him.

For their business meeting, she reminded herself. Never mind that it was private, in her apartment, or that they wanted to give the impression to anyone paying attention that they were an item, or—

A buzz sounded from the intercom. Kelly hurried out of the kitchen and through the tiny living room with its small sofa and single chair, toward the door. She pushed the button.

“Yes?” She tried to sound calm and relaxed, as if she weren’t all excited about the idea of spending time with Alan that evening.

“Hi, Kelly,” said a deep voice in response. “It’s Alan.”

“Oh, hi. I’ll buzz you in. I’m on the third floor, apartment 322.”

“I know,” he said. “Be right up.”

* * *

Opening the front door after Kelly’s buzz, Alan glanced around. The moderate-sized apartment building’s lobby was empty and seemed standard: white plaster walls, linoleum floors, high ceilings and one wall lined with mailboxes. There was a scent of cleaning fluid, so apparently the place was well maintained.

Pretty much what he’d anticipated.

He walked up the two flights of stairs to the third floor, two plastic bags containing their dinner in his hands.

Knowing that her name—now—was Kelly Ladd had given Alan all the information he needed to find her local address on one of the secure locator sites he had access to on his phone, thanks to being part of the Covert Investigations Unit. He figured that Judge Treena knew Kelly’s location, too, but was silently giving Alan latitude to find and work with her—for now.

He’d also taken the time to check out the neighborhood on another of his resources. There were few reports of illegal activities around here—a break-in several months ago at a complex down the street, a couple of domestic disputes in this building, a car break-in nearby. Nothing major, and nothing to indicate this was a bad area to live in.

On the other hand, it was a far cry from the upscale neighborhood where Shereen Alsop had lived, and way below the elite area housing Stan Grodon and his son...and where Andi Alsop Grodon had formerly resided with them.

He turned right at the top of the steps and headed toward the door to the second apartment, number 322. There, he pressed the button and heard the buzz from inside.

He heard the sound of footsteps, then the door opened.

Kelly smiled up at him, her brown eyes twinkling. “Ah, Mr. Deliveryman. Come in.”

He wondered now what color her eyes really were, since most subjects helped by the Transformation Unit portion of the ID Division were given contact lenses as part of their makeovers.

Maybe he would find out someday, but not now. “Yes, Ms. Consumer. I hope you like Chinese food. I thought I’d bring something different from usual US fare that you’re generally surrounded with at the Haven.”

He glanced around the inside. The door opened into a small living room area, and he saw a couple of other openings he assumed led to the kitchen and bedroom. The furnishings were standard, a small tan upholstered sofa and chair both facing a shelf containing a flat-screen television.

Fair surroundings to live in. Impersonal enough for someone who wasn’t a real person, exactly.

“Sounds great,” Kelly said. “Come this way. I’ll show you the kitchen.” She moved away from him, one hand beckoning him to follow. Which he was glad to do, watching her back end swaying enticingly as she preceded him. No longer was she in that slutty, though attractive, waitress garb. Her outfit went well with the furnishings’ coloration, in deeper brown. Her pants fit snugly, and her top? It was loose but hugged her curves.

Plus, he enjoyed her curly hair freed that way.

Good thing they had both agreed on pretending to have a relationship. He could stare at her as part of their cover. Although here, in private, they could act like the disinterested collaborators they were.

But staring at her, at least from behind, still worked for him.

He was glad, though, that he’d taken the time to change from his standard security uniform of a suit into a plaid shirt over jeans—more casual and friendly. And friendliness here wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“Here we are.” She pointed to a pale wood table that would fit two comfortably, though not more. The rest of the kitchen was tiny, too, with all the standard stuff but smaller: a metal refrigerator with the freezer part on top, a sink with counters beside it that didn’t extend very far, although the right side held a compact microwave oven. The cabinets matched the wood of the counters.

To Alan, this did not look like a place to live for very long, even though he figured most of the building’s low-rent tenants stayed for years.