Chapter 20
They got to the airport early. Hayes had insisted on it.
Beckett had humoured him out of the kindness of his heart.
They’d taken Nickel along, and he was currently strapped to Beckett’s chest. He got the occasional odd look, and a few kids asking to pet him, but otherwise he carried on with sleeping his life away.
“Do we even know what this mystery lady will look like?” Beckett yawned again, which was his fifth yawn since they’d arrived. Whatever sleep they’d managed to get the night before hadn’t been enough.
“Not a clue,” Hayes said, shaking his head.
“Maybe she’ll be hot—I’m thinking Bond girl,” Beckett said, cracking his neck from side to side. They were standing at the arrival terminal, both of them lounging back against the wall while scanning the influx of arrivals at the Montréal–Trudeau International Airport.
“Why? You looking to update?” Hayes asked jokingly, but Beckett detected an undertone of concern.
Beckett shot his boyfriend a look, one eyebrow raised in surprise as he considered the man. He looked perfectly at ease, his posture relaxed and elegant, as usual, but there was a firm set to his jaw, like he was clenching his teeth.
“You think I’d stick around for a year, just to ditch you for the first hot girl I see?” Beckett asked, growing slightly worried.
Hayes snorted and shook his head.
“No, of course not—I’m just sleep deprived,” he assured him, but Beckett wasn’t fully convinced.
“I don’t miss women, in case you were wondering,” Beckett said.
“I wasn’t,” Hayes assured him.
“Do you?”
And Hayes’ head snapped to the side so fast Beckett was afraid he’d given himself whiplash.
“No!” Hayes exclaimed without a second of hesitation. His concerns vanished as soon as he caught the teasing smile on Beckett’s face.
“I’m too tired for your C.U.N.T.’s mind games,” Hayes answered, annoyed.
“Whatever you say, Daisy,” Beckett chuckled before getting back to his coffee. It was rather burnt tasting, but if it got him to wake up a little, he’d keep drinking it.
“I never had—it was never like this, with anyone,” Hayes admitted after a long moment of silence.
Beckett shot him a surprised look. He hadn’t expected Hayes to offer anything else on the matter.
And while the urge to fire back a teasing remark pulled at him, he bit it back.
This was Hayes at his most vulnerable. This was exactly what Beckett had told Hayes to be, and here he was, opening himself to him willingly, in broad daylight.
“This connection means much more to me than—” Hayes broke off, struggling to find the right words. “Looks and appeal.”
Beckett bit down on his bottom lip, practically vibrating with the urge to tease Hayes about his awkwardness in explaining his feelings.
“You saying I’m not good looking and appealing?” Beckett asked instead, playing coy.
Hayes rolled his eyes, not at all fooled.
“I think you know perfectly well how attractive I find you,” Hayes replied.
That admission momentarily took Beckett’s breath away. He smiled, and reached for Hayes’ forearm, squeezing it gently as he winked at his boyfriend.
“I love you too, Nancy,” he said, knowing exactly what Hayes was trying to convey.
Relief swept across Hayes’ features as he gave a firm nod and turned back to the milling crowd. God—how had Beckett gotten so lucky?
“Heads up,” Hayes said, drawing Beckett’s attention back to their surroundings.
He’d been sort of joking before about not knowing what she would look like, but as a large group of new arrivals headed their way, he questioned exactly how they’d know who to approach. He checked his watch: 16:30. Any minute now.
Hayes started to make a comment when he noticed an older woman—well into her 60s— with a backpack slung over her shoulder and holding a sign she’d made out of a barf bag from the plane. It read “I’m here, FYI.”
“That—” Beckett didn’t have words. “Think she’s our girl?”
“She certainly not one of Bond’s,” Hayes responded before he pushed away from the wall and began walking towards her.
Beckett followed him, but left a little distance between them.
Their contact had stepped away from the group and waited, her backpack at her feet, sign held out in front of her as she casually glanced around. Noticing Hayes coming to stand just a few feet away, her friendly smile morphed into one of pure mischief.
“Agent Monroe?” she asked, balling up the bag in one hand and extending the other towards Hayes.
“Indeed,” Hayes said with a nod, as he reached for her hand.
“Adeline Morr,” she said, her voice low and gravelly.
Probably, Beckett decided, from one too many cigarettes, as he walked up to stand next to Hayes.
“Pleasure to meet you. This is my partner Beckett Thérault,” Hayes introduced him with a warm smile.
She gave him a nod and a quick smile. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but that plane ride nearly killed me,” she declared.
“Oh? Were there—delays?” Hayes asked politely.
“It’s just at my age—my hips can’t bend for a long time like that anymore,” she stated, waving it off. “It’s why I divorced my third husband,” she added, with a husky laugh and a wink.
“Welcome to Montreal, Madame Morr,” Beckett said, still trying to decide how he felt about this woman. He held out his hand for her to shake. She took it, though her gaze narrowed as it met his own.
“Fuck the Madame—I’m old, but not dead yet. Adeline or Addy will do,” she said, ignoring his attempt at formality.
“Adeline?” he repeated, testing the sound of it, having never heard the name before.
“Yes. A-D-E-L—oh, who am I kidding! Gill said he’s the smart one,” she said, nodding towards Hayes.
“Bit of an overstatement,” Beckett said, rolling his eyes.
She grinned at him, clearly pleased that he hadn’t taken offence at her assessment of him.
“And who’s this?” she asked, as she laid her hand on Nickel’s head as he slept.
“Attack dog. Nickel’s the name,” Beckett said, with a great deal of pride.
“Him, I’m happy to see,” she say, her rough edges disappearing when she petted him. Nickel woke up at the touch. He leaned his head against her hand, seeking even more contact. Clearly, the munchkin was loyal to himself, first and foremost.
“Well, boys, you planning on taking my bag? Or are we just going to stand here all day?” she said, as she stopped petting Nickel and pointed to the backpack she’d dropped at her feet.
Beckett snorted and grabbed a strap of the backpack, swinging it over his shoulder, finding it much heavier than he’d anticipated.
“You been hiking the Kilimanjaro with this thing? Jeez—” he complained, as Hayes led the way to their car. Beckett gestured for Adeline to follow Hayes, and he followed her, completing their conga line.
“Ah, so it’s not just your head that’s full of air then—” she countered. “So are your muscles.”
And even Beckett had to snicker at that one. He had very little pride, but he did have a whole lot of humour.
They drove back to Matthew’s condo in companiable silence. Adeline had insisted on riding in the backseat, and had plucked Nickel from Beckett’s chest so he could sit in her lap. The dog hadn’t moved since leaving the airport and looked perfectly content to live out the rest of his life in her lap.
The traitor.
Adeline asked the occasional question about Montreal but was otherwise occupied with entertaining Nickel. Beckett answered her questions, though he hadn’t lived in or near Montreal in quite some time.
“I’d like to eat some poutine before I die—” she said, as Hayes pulled into their reserved space in the parking garage of the condo.
“Best to get a crack on and have one for dinner then—just to be on the safe side,” Beckett shot back.
She cackled like a woodland witch.
Hayes looked about ready to pour himself a tall glass of scotch and call it quits for the day.
Matthew was waiting for them as they entered the condo, dressed very conservatively for once.
His grey polo shirt with white trim went well with his blue jeans and loafers.
His hair was styled in his usual sleek, rich boy way and his only accessory was a Swiss watch that cost more than Beckett made in a year.
“Adeline, meet Matthew, the scumbag-rich-bitch-mob-boss my brother is in bed with,” Beckett declared sardonically, sparing no one’s feelings.
“Oh—another pretty boy!” Adeline exclaimed happily. The aforementioned pretty boy extended his hand politely, his expression pinched as he struggled not to react to Beckett’s taunt. She ignored his hand completely. Instead, she put her hand up to his cheek and patted him as if he was a good dog.
“I see the brothers have similar taste,” she said, looking back and gesturing towards Hayes. She smirked, obviously enjoying the chance to tease Beckett.
Beckett hated that it made him like her all the more for her lack of a filter.
“Would someone tell the octogenarian to take her hands off me before I shoot her in the gut?” Matthew demanded angrily.
“Suit yourself, but I’m not digging any more graves this month,” Beckett said, raising his hands and backing away.
“Besides, she has her hearing aids in—you can tell her yourself.” And yeah, he was grinning like the little shit he was.
Adeline merely winked at him in appreciation.
She was cradling Nickel, and Beckett made a mental note to check her bag before she left.
She had “dog snatcher” flashing across her forehead.
Hayes’ sighed loudly, hanging his head in defeat.
“Not that I’m not enjoying this little fuckfest, but maybe we could get down to business?” Matthew growled, at his wit’s end with all of them.
“Not without condoms,” Adeline said.
“And a signed NDA,” Beckett tacked on.
They grinned at each other like evil twins.
Hayes sighed, deciding it would be for the best if he took the lead.
“How much did Gill tell you?” he asked her, as he sat down on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter.
“As much as he could,” she said, with a shrug.
She settled into a large leather ottoman, lounging back and putting her feet up on the stool in front of her.
She sighed, like she’d been dying to get off her feet.
“Said you needed access to some rando’s computer to get information about tenants and renters’ agreements.
Had no specifics about the type of hardware, system, or program involved.
Said the guy in question would be working for a rather paranoid mob boss, so I needed to come prepared,” she summarized briefly.
“And did you?” Matthew asked with a frown.
Beckett didn’t blame him for questioning her abilities regarding high tech work.
Adeline looked like a grandma on vacation.
She was wearing white capris, a sky blue t-shirt with turtles embroidered on the front, and a white cardigan tied around her neck.
She looked ready to head on over to the Club Med pool bar and flirt with the first available widower she could get her hooks into.
“’Course,” she said simply.
“What exactly are your qualifications?” Matthew asked doubtfully.
Beckett would feel the same way if Gill hadn’t recommended her directly. He knew his boss didn’t mess around.
“I don’t make a habit of justifying my presence to small-dick assholes,” she replied coolly, not even blinking as she insulted him point blank.
Matthew huffed out a laugh of disbelief.
Beckett couldn’t help his instinctive bark of laughter.
“Well, just out of curiosity then,” Hayes said, arms crossed over his chest, looking perfectly relaxed as he smiled charmingly.
She sighed like she’d rather not provide the information, but she answered anyway.
“I was a CIA analyst for several decades. More or less built the cybercrime division,” she shrugged. “Among other things.”
“Is your pension so lousy that you’re already out of retirement?” Beckett asked.
“There’s only so much Scrabble and Pinochle a woman can take before she threatens to murder her neighbours.”
Beckett thought she made a good point. After a life of hunting down criminals and being at the forefront of an evolving technology, he imagined that sitting around and doing nothing would drive anyone insane.
“God—this is what I have to look forward to, isn’t it?” Hayes mumbled.
Beckett had the distinct impression he’d been talking to himself. He smiled at him with affectionate amusement.
“Very well,” Matthew said, like he was giving her his seal of approval. She rolled her eyes, because that was entirely unnecessary and she knew it.
“So how do you propose we proceed?” Hayes asked, since they could quite easily break in anywhere and steal shit—but hacking someone’s computer required a much more advanced skillset than they possessed.
“I have neither the crayons, nor the patience to explain the intricacies of it to you—but, tell me, how do you boys feel about a good old undercover bluff?” she asked, as she cracked her knuckles and waggled her eyebrows.
“I want to wear a big porno movie mustache,” Beckett replied, excitedly.
The others groaned in unison.