Never Say Spy by Diane Henders Page B

here.  None of my team members were available except Webb, and I didn’t want to put him in the line of fire again.  You did a pretty good number on him earlier, so I imagine he’s very stiff and sore.”
    Hellhound regarded me with interest.  “Ya took on Webb, too?”
    “Took out Webb is more like it,” Kane said.  “Anyway, I needed someone at our rendezvous point as quickly as possible in case you arrived before I did, and I also wanted to make sure we weren’t walking into a trap.”
    “I guess introductions are in order,” he continued.  “Aydan, this is Arnie Helmand, a.k.a. Hellhound.  He’s a private investigator.”
    I must have looked sceptical, because Helmand grinned, showing those even white teeth again.  “I clean up good,” he said modestly.
    I tried to picture him in a suit with his beard and moustache trimmed.  It wasn’t convincing.
    “He helps me out now and then, and he lives close to here,” Kane continued.  “So I called and asked him to go to the parking lot and keep his eyes open for trouble.  Surveillance only.”  He glared at Helmand.  Helmand glowered back defiantly.  “I also described you to him.  Then I got on the road as fast as I could.”
    “I was the one he called after he grabbed you,” he went on.  “I was actually in the parking lot by then.  I saw his bike, but I couldn’t see him, so I was getting out of the SUV to look around.  Right after he said ‘Got her’, I heard all hell break loose on the line, and I thought you’d both been attacked.  I heard scuffling in the alleyway, so I ran in that direction.  I arrived just in time to see you take him out.”
    The waitress arrived at that moment with my platter of food, and I dug in enthusiastically.  The men watched in silence while I devoured about a quarter of the eggs, salsa, sour cream, and greasy fries.  I’d finished my hot chocolate, and between the overheated restaurant, the extra calories, and the spicy food, I was warm at last.  I paused my feeding frenzy long enough to peel off my jacket before getting back to work on the plate.
    “Oh, hey,” Hellhound rasped softly from across the table.  “I’m sorry, darlin’.”  I glanced up in puzzlement to see his contrite expression.  Kane was frowning at me in concern, too.
    I followed their gaze to the livid welts on my left wrist and forearm.  There was a distinct reddened imprint of a Hellhound-sized hand, the creases of his fingers clearly visible as white lines.  Various other scrapes and scratches glowed on my pale skin.
    “Oh.”  I touched the burning area on my neck where he’d grabbed me first.  That was probably fiery red, too.  “Don’t worry about it,” I reassured him.  “When they were handing out skin, I accidentally got into the ‘Princess’ lineup.  It only looks dramatic.  It’ll be gone in an hour, no harm done.”
    “Are you sure you’re all right?” Kane asked.
    “Yeah, I’m fine.  But, Arnie, what the hell possessed you to grab me without telling me who you were?  You’re not exactly a reassuring-looking guy, you know.”
    Helmand shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  “Yeah, I pooched it all right.  I was so surprised when your hood fell off, I forgot ya didn’t know what was goin’ down.  Then ya slammed my face into the wall, an’ I didn’t want ya to run out into the parkin’ lot an’ maybe get shanghaied by some dirtbag, so I grabbed ya.  I was tryin’ to tell ya when ya punched me in the throat.”
    It was my turn to look shamefaced.  “Sorry about that.”
    “Darlin’, don’t worry about it.  Last time I wanted it that rough from a chick, she made me pay extra.”  He winked.
    “Clearly I’m not charging enough, then,” I retorted.  “Maybe I should write you and Webb an invoice.”
    Hellhound shouted with laughter, then choked and coughed.  “Try expensin’ that one through the department,” he croaked to Kane, massaging his throat.
    Kane remained