Kate Donovan - Exit Strategy

“Oh, really?” She folded her arms across her chest and looked into the roaring fire as though upset.

“It’s not the sort of thing he and I communicate about,” Kell told her quickly. “And now that I think about it, it’s been more than six months since I heard from him.”

She bit her lip, genuinely touched at his attempt to soothe her hurt feelings.

“I’m sure he would have mentioned you. You’re so beautiful. Just his type, right? I mean, you look a little like the pictures I’ve seen of his ex-wife.” Kell blanched. “You knew he was married once, didn’t you?”

Miranda smiled. “You know Ray. He’d never lie to someone he cared about. So of course he told me. And given what I do for a living, his past is pretty tame, don’t you think?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“She’s a hooker, boss,” Carl interrupted. “Her wallet is filled with men’s business cards.”

Miranda gave him a furious glare, then turned to Kell and explained. “I’m not a prostitute. I’m a professional girlfriend. There’s a big difference.”

“A professional girlfriend? How many boyfriends do you have?”

“About a dozen, give or take. But Ray’s the only one I’d go to Switzerland for. I’d go around the world for any of them,” she added with a wink. “But Switzerland? That’s true love.”

“Ray is your customer?”

“Client. And only because he wants it that way. He’s a lot like you,” she reminded him. “Living all alone. Keeping the world at a distance.”

“He’s nothing like me,” Kell corrected her. “I live alone because I’m protecting myself from the world. Ortega thinks he’s protecting the world from himself. His act is selfless. Mine is selfish.”

Miranda licked her lips, intrigued by the simple assessment. Wasn’t it true? Ortega believed his inability to handle power made him a threat, so he stayed at his cabin, all alone, rather than make another mistake that could hurt another innocent victim, like McGregor’s sister.

Or Miranda.

That goes in the Plus column, she admitted to herself, remembering the chart of Ortega’s pros and cons she had made on the airplane. She had deleted it before they landed, but it stayed in her imagination, and given the fact she was pretending to be in love with the guy, it was comforting to know that the list of minuses wasn’t so much longer than the pluses as she had first thought.

“Miss Aguilar?”

“You’d better call me Jennifer,” she told Kell. “We’re practically related, you know. Because we both love Ray. Right?”

Kell stared at her for a moment, then nodded and turned to Carl, instructing him, “When Samson gets back, tell him to go into town and pick up Miss Aguilar’s things. She’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

When a cell phone began to ring in her living room, Kristie thought at first it was Miranda, and she sprang for it, intending to beg, threaten or cajole her friend into coming home. Then she realized it was the new phone she had purchased as a dedicated line for “Miranda Duncan’s” employer, and she grimaced.

Get it together, Kristie. You’re the proprietress of an escort service. Time to act like it.

Using a soft, throaty voice, she purred into the phone. “Prudently Yours. This is Daniella. How can I help you this evening?”

“I’m attempting to locate one of your girls,” a man with a British accent informed her, speaking carefully, as though every word mattered. “Her name is Miranda Duncan. Any assistance you can offer would be greatly appreciated.”

“Are you a client, sir?”

“In a sense, yes.”

“May I have your name?” When he hesitated, Kristie asked him with pretended hesitation, “You aren’t by any chance Mr. Alexander Gresley, are you?”

“Yes, I am he.”

“Oh, Mr. Gresley! Miranda will be so glad to hear you’ve called us. She was worried you’d be upset over her faux pas the other evening. Let me assure you the agency will pay for that bottle of Scotch. Miranda tells us it was quite expensive, and she feels just terrible about spilling it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Isn’t that why you’re calling?”

“The Scotch?” He cleared his throat. “What else did she tell you about our encounter?”

“Well, just that it wasn’t much of an encounter at all, thanks to her toothache. It was all my fault, Mr. Gresley, so don’t blame Miranda. I knew she wasn’t feeling well, but Mr. O’Neill was a new client and I didn’t want to disappoint him. And he had specifically requested a certain type of companion. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson. Just send us the bill-”

“I’m not calling for reimbursement. I’d like to send Miss Duncan some flowers. Can you tell me where she is?”

Kristie sighed into the phone. “We have a policy. And I can’t imagine why you’d want to send her anything, considering what poor service we gave you.”

“According to my contacts, she flew to New York, and from there, to San Diego, where she went to hospital for her tooth. Is that true?”

“I’m impressed,” Kristie told him, trying not to sound too self-satisfied that her fake trail had fooled him. “Your contacts are well-informed. Miranda will be flattered to know you went to so much trouble to find her.”

“And?”

“Well…” Kristie hesitated for dramatic effect. “The poor girl did go to the emergency room in San Diego, just like your contacts said. But once the doctors diagnosed the massive infection in her jaw, we had her transferred to a private facility that works with us on surgical matters. Not usually teeth,” she added with a giggle. “But still, they know how to take good care of our girls. I can’t give out information about them, per our contract, but Miranda will be released by the end of next week. Should I have her call you then?”

“I’d rather surprise her.”

I’ll bet you would, the spinner rebuked him silently. Surprise her with a pair of thugs to rough her up, right?

Aloud, she cooed with delight. “I’m sure she’d love that. After all she’s been through, a little extra pampering would be so sweet. I won’t breathe a word of it. I’ll just call you as soon as I have the release date. She’ll probably check into the Hilton for a few extra days of recuperation at our expense. You could show up with flowers and candy-ooo, I’m getting goose bumps just thinking about it.”

“As am I,” Gresley assured her. “Do I have your word, then? It will be our little secret? If I’m going to cross an ocean to surprise her, I don’t want to be disappointed.”

“I won’t breathe a word. Give me a number where you can be reached, and I’ll call you with her room number as soon as the facility releases her.”

She was grinning as she recorded the information. Then she said a heartfelt goodbye-forever-to Alexander Gresley. If he called again in a week, wondering why he hadn’t heard from “Daniella,” he’d discover that the line had been disconnected, with no forwarding number. And in the meantime, if Miranda’s mission proved successful, maybe the Brigade would be on the run, and Gresley would have bigger problems than just exacting revenge from a pugnacious working girl with a mean right hook!

The call had been so much fun-just the sort of thing she loved about her job as a spinner-she almost forgot for a moment about her dilemma. It all seemed so harmless-Gresley chasing Miranda in San Diego, when she was actually a continent away. But a continent away wasn’t any safer. In fact, it might be even worse, if the Brigadier ever found out that a CIA agent was trying to infiltrate his organization.

The spinner was just sinking back into gloom when she heard a brisk knocking on the door to her apartment. And suddenly, her only thought-in fact, the only word that existed in the world for her-was McGregor.