Free How Spy I Am by Diane Henders

the interior of the vehicle, and I watched the
rhythm of the flashes with my heart in my mouth. The cadence slowed
on his side of the truck, but accelerated as he approached my
side.
    At his gesture, I
eased the door latch open as soundlessly as possible and stepped
out into the snow. As he moved the device back and forth over the
passenger side the flashes continued but the rhythm remained the
same, speeding up slightly when the device neared the seat.
    Arnie frowned and
retraced his pattern with the same result. Slower on his side,
faster on the passenger side. I leaned into the warmth of the
vehicle, shivering in the frosty breeze. This time the flashes sped
up when the scanner approached the passenger seat, but still failed
to achieve the solid red that would indicate the bug’s
position.
    Hellhound grimaced in
frustration, and I leaned in to point at a likely-looking spot near
the seatbelt buckle.
    The light glowed solid
red as my arm skimmed by.
    We both jerked back,
staring at each other.
    I slowly extended my
arm, trying to control trembling that had nothing to do with the
cold. The flashes accelerated as Arnie eased the scanner closer.
When he held it against my arm, the red light glowed like a beacon
for the damned.
    I crept back into the
SUV and clicked the door closed before stripping off my jacket.
Once again, the scanner shone steady red over the half-healed wound
on my arm, and fury filled me.
    They’d tagged me like
a goddamn animal.
    I could fix that.
    I groped in my waist
pouch for my razor-sharp folding knife.
    When I extracted it
Arnie caught my wrist, and I looked up to see his scowl and
headshake. I made a face and tried to pull free, but he shook his
head vigorously and his hand clamped down. The sudden implacable
grip was so unlike his habitual gentleness that a flashback to the
terror of captivity made me gasp and jerk back.
    He released me
instantly, his still-bruised face twisting into horrified remorse,
and I cursed myself for my lack of control.
    Our hurried pantomime
of
‘I’m-so-sorry-I-didn’t-mean-to-hurt-you’-‘It’s-okay-you-didn’t-hurt-me-I’m-fine’
might have looked funny to an outside observer, but I knew exactly
how serious it was for him.
    I took both his hands
in mine and brushed kisses over them before holding them to my
cheek. His face relaxed, and I leaned over to hug and kiss him. His
hands touched me tentatively, and I grasped them to pull his arms
firmly around me.
    A long moment later, I
pulled away to give him a smile before waving a frustrated hand at
the mark on my arm. He shook his head and mimed writing, and I
groped in my waist pouch for a pen and a scrap of paper.
    Arnie flicked on the
dome light, and a moment later, I squinted at his scrawl. “Let me
talk to Webb first.”
    I blew out a sigh of
acquiescence and flopped back in the seat. He gave a sigh of his
own and spoke aloud as he flipped the headlights back on and put
the SUV in gear.
    “Let’s get ya home,
darlin’.”

    Parked outside my
farmhouse, I turned to him. “Are you coming in?”
    “Yeah.”
    We both got out,
shuffling through the fluffy snow on my walk. At the front steps, I
turned to stop him. “Just let me sweep the stairs off first. You
don’t need to slip and sprain your other ankle.”
    His gaze twitched
toward the eaves where we both knew one of the surveillance cameras
was located, but he nodded and said ‘Thanks’ in a rare moment of
compliance.
    When we stepped inside
the house, I drew a long breath. Home. Still my home. At least for
now.
    Hellhound smiled as if
reading my mind and shrugged out of his jacket. As he bent to
remove his boots, I stopped him. “Don’t bother. It’ll hurt your
ankle. Just leave them on.”
    “Nah. Don’t wanna mark
up your floor,” he replied.
    “Don’t worry about it.
It’s so old it won’t matter,” I argued, but he persisted, and I
winced as he eased his boot off.
    He shot me a
meaningful look. “How ‘bout some