Under Darkness Part 11

"You owe me one," I said as we stepped into the hall, adjusting my dress and my cheeks blushing rose.

"I'll give you a twofer." He winked. And later, until the night faded away and relinquished the darkness to the faint rosy glow of dawn, he did.

Before it was fully light out, Darius rolled over and got out of bed. He said he had to leave.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "Do you still have your apartment?"

"Nah, I gave it up when I left on tour." He pulled on his jeans and kept his back to me.

"So why not sleep here?"

"Next time," he said, sidestepping the question.

"So where are you going?"

"I have some business to take care of," he said, keeping his voice light.

The Family Feud Family Feud buzzer sounded in my head. buzzer sounded in my head. Blaaat Blaaat. Wrong answer.

"Does the business have short curly hair and a nasty att.i.tude when it comes to me?" I said, and sat up.

I saw his body stiffen. He didn't face me when he answered. "If you mean Julie, no. Why can't you get over it?"

"Because, Darius, she tried to kill me. And even after she tried to kill me, you took her to Europe with your band. A few weeks ago you left your band with with Julie. What am I supposed to think?" Julie. What am I supposed to think?"

Darius came over and sat on the edge of the bed. He didn't say anything as he put on his shoes. I sat there, the sheet tangled around my waist, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s bare.

Finally he twisted around and looked at me. He took my hand and brought it to his lips. He bent down and kissed my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He kissed my lips and filled my mouth with his tongue. I'd be a liar if I said it didn't feel good.

Then, pulling me close against him, my skin brushing against the roughness of his shirt, he hugged me. "You're supposed to think that I love you. Because I do. And I'm here with you, not Julie. She's just a member of my team."

That was true, so why did I say in a whisper, my lips close to his ear, "But you f.u.c.ked f.u.c.ked her, Darius. So she's not just a team member"? her, Darius. So she's not just a team member"?

Darius dropped my hand and stood up. He gave me a long look before he spoke. When he did, his voice was anything but loving. "Daphne, when it comes to f.u.c.king f.u.c.king, I don't think you're in any position to go around throwing stones at me."

He was right, of course. But when I slept with Fitz and had s.e.x with Rogue, when I had descended into the den of debauchery and met the satyrs there, Darius and I had broken up. I had never cheated on him, not once. I had never even l.u.s.ted in my heart. And I certainly didn't team up with anyone who had tried to kill him.

A wiser woman would have shut up and let bygones be bygones. But the thought of Darius with Julie hurt so much. And how did I know he wasn't going to her now? So I opened my mouth and asked, "Are you going to see her?"

"I told you, I have business to do. Leave it, Daphne. Now I have to go." He bent down and brushed his lips against mine. I wouldn't call it a kiss.

I watched him walk out of the bedroom. I heard the front door open. I heard it slam. Then the quietness took over and so did the ache inside me. And Darius had not told me if or when he was coming back.

Chapter 11.

"All things are poison and nothing is not a poison; the dose alone makes the difference."-Paracelsus

Gilt, a chic bar with an adjoining restaurant at the New York Palace Hotel, lived up to its name. Gold was everywhere.

With a reservation for dinner at nine o'clock, Benny and I showed up at the hotel around eight thirty, as soon as the sunlight died down enough so we could venture forth from our dens.

Being early, Benny and I sat for a while at a pie-plate-size c.o.c.ktail table near the well-known bar. The "gilt" referred to in its name appeared on the gold-appointed walls in this section, the huge fresco in front of me, and the ornate ceiling, where there was an abundance of shiny things. I guessed the weird red geodesic dome at one end of the bar was an attempt to give a younger face to a rich old dame.

It didn't work.

We bided our time and talked about clothes. I played with a gla.s.s of chardonnay but didn't drink it. Benny downed two pinot grigios with gusto.

Finally we were ushered to our table at the rear of the long, dark-wood-paneled restaurant. In Gilt, the restaurant proper, the decor was opulent and aristocratic. Gold candlesticks burned golden beeswax candles on each table. A single white lily stood in a golden bud vase. The tablecloth was fine linen. Crystal gla.s.ses tinkled. Voices rose no louder than a soft hush.

"Don't y'all just love it?" Benny said as the maitre d' held her chair. She wore a little black dress by David Meister with a sweetheart neck and lots of cleavage. The maitre d' took the time to admire the view as he got her seated.

It was, in fact, like dining at an Italian Renaissance palace, Hollywood-style. Don't get me wrong; it was very nicely done. No other patrons besides me had ever seen the real thing anyway.

Gilt also described the entree prices, which were not for the fainthearted. But Benny and I weren't picking up the tab tonight. We had been a.s.signed to act as backup for Audrey when she met the international cricket star Shalid Khan at nine fifteen.

That was one story, anyway. In reality, Benny and I "suggested" to Audrey that we would never speak to her again if we couldn't come along. We were dying to get in on this, the first real breakthrough in the case.

She didn't argue, bless her little Greek heart. She convinced J it was essential that she have backup. Cormac and Rogue were already booked: They went looking for the tire guy with the disappearing ketch out in Westchester. That left us.

Our drink order arrived promptly, a Pellegrino with a slice of lime for me and Benny's Pink Squirrel-a creme de noyaux concoction mixed with cream that wasn't pink at all, but a pale nutty color. I was looking at it with revulsion, thinking about how many calories it contained, when my partner gave me a swift kick in the ankle with her pointed shoe.

"Ouch!" I complained. "What?"

"Get a lookee. Lucky Audrey," she said, nodding toward the front of the room.

Mr. Khan was making an entrance. We had seen his picture. It didn't do him justice.

"Now, there is one fine-looking studm.u.f.fin," she said, great with wisdom.

I agreed. This guy was hot, hot, hot.

Shalid Khan wore Armani pants, a collarless shirt, Italian loafers without socks, and a Rolex watch. He was impeccably groomed. He carried himself like royalty. His light brown complexion made him seem as if he had a really good Florida tan. He could have just arrived from a polo match in Boca Raton.

Compared to Shalid's understated elegance, I felt overdressed. I had again put on my stunning Mandalay halter dress, new shoes, new bag. But my heart hadn't been into primping for this a.s.signment. I felt too screwed up over the Darius situation. Some humongous security risk to the entire nation was taking place, and ninety-nine percent of my brain was occupied with my love life.

I pushed the piece of lime into the gla.s.s of Pellegrino with my index finger, licked the sourness left on my skin, and mentally beat myself up. I always thought recruiting vampires as the first line of defense against terror was a c.r.a.ppy idea. We're too self-centered and self-absorbed. I was proving myself right. How appropriate that I found myself in the Gilt Room. I would spell it G-U-I-L-T.

Meanwhile Benny openly stared at our quarry. I leaned over and whispered, "Hide behind your menu. You're too obvious."

"Oh, never you mind," she said. "A man that gorgeous expects ladies to stare. Look around. Not a female in this here entire restaurant ain't swooning and fanning herself something fierce."

She was right. Every female in the room was gawking at Shalid Khan. The maitre d' simpered and fawned shamelessly as he led the cricket star toward a table. As soon as Mr. Khan was seated, a waiter hurried over with a martini. Mr. Khan drank it down and signaled for another.

Evidently Mr. Khan wasn't a true believer: Islam forbids alcohol. None of the El Saud princes paid any attention to that taboo either. They leave the puritanism to extremist groups like the Wahhabis. More than ever I wondered how a person like Shalid Khan-wealthy, upper-cla.s.s, and a celebrity-got himself into the middle of this.

Fashionably late, the hour nearing nine thirty, Audrey arrived. Compared to the exquisite design of her couture gown, my dress could have come off the rack in Filene's Bas.e.m.e.nt. And in the same way the women had stared at Shalid, every man now ogled Audrey. The homely, bespectacled librarian had been reincarnated as a cross between Jackie O and Princess Di. She looked vulnerable, innocent, s.e.xy, and filthy rich all at the same time.

Shalid got to his feet like a man in a dream. Audrey floated toward him. She reached out her hand. He brought it to his lips. Their eyes fixed on each other. It was kismet.

"Oh, shee-it," Benny said.

"Ditto," I said.

This meeting had already gone south. As was clear to one and all, these two people had just had a storybook moment and fallen in love.

After that followed one of the longest dinners I ever endured. We kept surveillance on our team member and her quarry. We could have gone to any chick flick and watched the same plot unfolding.

Audrey ducked her head shyly. Shalid kept leaning over and whispering to her. They tentatively touched fingertips. He fed her a tidbit from his plate. She wiped a speck of food from his lips. He kissed her fingertips.

Their feet eventually interlocked beneath the fine linen tablecloth. They seemed to have forgotten the world existed. I wondered if they'd ever remember to get to business before they decided to go somewhere more private and tumble into each other's arms.

Finally neither Benny nor I could take it another minute. Benny went to the ladies' room and called Audrey on her cell phone. I watched Audrey's face-first horror that her cell phone was even ringing, followed by embarra.s.sment about answering it. I didn't know what Benny said, but Audrey didn't say more than a word or two before snapping the flip phone shut.

Audrey leaned toward Shalid and began talking fast. I guessed she finally brought up the reason she was there in the first place. I could tell I was right because Shalid's face turned grave. His body went from languid to tense. He pulled out an envelope from his hip pocket and slid it across the table. Audrey took it and put it in her purse.

Then Shalid engaged in a lengthy soliloquy, his face earnest. I kicked myself that I didn't have a bug planted so we could hear. Some frigging spy I was.

Audrey and Shalid talked back and forth now. Benny strolled back to our table, pa.s.sing close by them. Suddenly Audrey stood. She looked over at me and made just the smallest movement of her head.

"Stay here and watch Shalid." I kept my voice low and spoke out of the corner of my mouth at Benny. "I'm going to meet Audrey in the ladies' room."

Audrey had been in front of the mirror reapplying lip gloss. She spotted me barreling into the washroom. She froze.

"What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing!" I yelled as I rushed past a wide-eyed attendant. Then, before I uttered another word, I pivoted, whipped a fifty-dollar bill out of my clutch purse, and told the elderly Hispanic woman to go out for a smoke.

With a murmured, "Muchas gracias, senorita" and no protest, she left. and no protest, she left.

Then I put a finger to my mouth for silence as I peeked under each stall to make sure we were alone. We were. I straightened and took a good look at my fellow Darkwing.

Audrey's eyes shone. Her face glowed. She was a woman in love. How f.u.c.king terrific.

"I... I..." she stammered, and lifted up supplicating hands. "I don't know what happened."

"Audrey! You're on a mission. You're a secret agent. He's the enemy. For G.o.d's sake, girl, get a grip."

"But... but I was just a research librarian until a month ago! I'm not really a spy. I didn't expect... I didn't know." Her voice wobbled. Tears were imminent.

"Deep breath, deep breath," I counseled. "This kind of thing isn't so unusual," I said, thinking back to my own peccadilloes with Darius my first time out. "Maybe it's a good thing. Pillow talk and all that. But you have to get control of yourself. You look like a moonstruck cow."

"A cow?" I had offended her. She got huffy. "You know, I'm not like the other Darkwings. You, Daphne, were brought up in this world. Rogue's a-criminal, and besides, he used to be in the CIA. Cormac's an actor. Benny... well, she has an apt.i.tude. I don't think I was cut out to be a spy."

I put my arm around her shoulder and gave her a bracing hug. "You're just having a crisis of confidence. You're doing great," I said, lying through my teeth.

"No, I'm not. I've been 'compromised.'" Her face crumbled. She was heading for the waterworks again.

"Compromised? Absolutely not. Technically you haven't um... you know. You're doing superb. I mean that."

"You do? I figured I had totally messed up."

"No, really, you're acting like a real pro. What did you find out?" I asked.

"He gave me this envelope. It's got instructions or something in it. I didn't look. I'm supposed to deliver it to the 'right person' in the government." She handed it over; then she summed up the little she knew.

Shalid's uncle, an adviser to President Musharraf, called him into his office in Islamabad. The uncle told "Shally" that he needed him to handle a matter of grave importance and asked Shally to act as a courier to the United States. Since the cricket star traveled internationally with some frequency, his trip would raise no questions.

Shally swore to Audrey he didn't know anything more. He'd apologized for involving such a beautiful woman in something potentially dangerous. He'd suggested they leave leave the restaurant and go back to his room "to get to know each other better." the restaurant and go back to his room "to get to know each other better."

Oh, boy, I thought. What I said was, "And what do you want to do?" I already knew the answer, but I figured she wanted my approval.

"I think I should go with him and try to get more information, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. Definitely. Benny and I will take the envelope back to J," I said. After we open it After we open it, I thought. "Will you be okay, though?"

"Yes. I have to try, anyway. It's like Rogue said last night about the fighting part of this: It's time I learned. I need the practice, that's all."

"Good att.i.tude. But remember, you haven't been compromised yet yet. Don't let it come to that, okay? Call Benny or me if you feel you can't handle things and need us to get you out of there." I might as well be spitting in the wind, but, as Darius pointed out, I lived in a gla.s.s house and couldn't throw stones.

Audrey nodded and then she smiled, her beautiful face radiant. "Shally, he's just an amazing man. Isn't he handsome?"

"Yes," I said. And he's human, he's Muslim, and he's working with terrorists And he's human, he's Muslim, and he's working with terrorists, I thought, and, girl, you are so screwed and, girl, you are so screwed. But I didn't voice any of that. She was too far gone. She wouldn't have listened to me anyway.

We watched Romeo and Juliet leave the restaurant; then Benny and I hurried out. We descended the wide curved stairway with its gold banisters and went as far as the Palace's lobby. A comfortable sofa in a relatively empty section of the huge s.p.a.ce provided some privacy. We sat. I breathed openmouthed on the glued flap to try to get it open. That didn't work. It still stuck tight. I shrugged.

"Just tear it open," Benny encouraged. "We'll tell J we're sorry after we read it." My sentiments exactly-better to beg for forgiveness than to ask permission. I used a nail file as a letter opener. Printed on a single sheet of typing paper was this: