by Erin Wade
The vibration of her phone interrupted her thoughts. It was Mecca. She answered gruffly.
“I just wondered if you had found out anything about the assassin.” Mecca’s voice was almost breathless.
“Nothing yet”—another lie—“but I’ll let you know as soon as I have something. How is Jane Doe?”
As soon as the question left her lips, she wished she could get it back. She knew she should not engage Mecca in conversation. She also knew the beautiful doctor was in danger, but she wasn’t sure why.
“She’s better,” Mecca answered tentatively. “I hope to be able to work with her next week.”
“That’s good,” Jericho said. She knew she should hang up, but couldn’t. She wanted to hear Mecca’s voice just a few minutes longer. “Are you home for the night?”
“I wish.” Mecca laughed. “I’m afraid I have to spend the evening in the most boring way imaginable, attending a stuffy reception. Want to join me?”
“No, but thanks for asking,” she said with a chuckle before hanging up.
Jericho was delighted that she had elicited a laugh from Mecca. She was also pleased that she would be at the UN reception, not as Mecca’s escort, but as her invisible protector.
Jericho arrived at the reception a little ahead of Mecca and Kadence. She wanted to make certain the German credentials her agency had sent worked smoothly; as always, they did. She felt a twinge of jealousy as Kadence walked into the ballroom with Mecca on her arm. God, she is beautiful, she thought.
The two made their way around the room, visiting with dignitaries and politicians.
A new band took the stage, and salsa music filled the ballroom. The younger partygoers stepped onto the floor, and the older dealmakers moved aside.
Jericho watched as Kadence nodded to a man who led Mecca to the center of the dance floor. A beautiful Spanish woman grabbed Jericho’s hand and dragged her onto the dance floor. Suddenly, her back collided with another dancer.
Mecca must have recognized Jericho’s perfume as soon as their bodies touched. Catching hold of her arm, Mecca stepped in front of her. “It’s you!”
Jericho looked at her blankly and then said in perfect German, “I am sorry. I do not speak English.” That should kill the conversation, she thought smugly.
Mecca looked embarrassed. The harsh, guttural language was obviously not what she had expected. “I am so sorry,” she replied in flawless German. “I thought you were someone else. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m afraid I ruined your dance.” Mecca looked around for Jericho’s partner, but she had moved on to another dancer.
“Where are my manners?” she said with a smile. “I’m Mecca Storm, New Yorker.”
“I’m Isa Friedman, economic attaché,” Jericho said. “I’m attached to the German embassy.”
“Friedman; peacemaker.” Mecca cocked her head to one side and studied Isa’s blue eyes and magnificent mane of blonde hair. “Are you a peacemaker, Miss Friedman?”
Before Jericho could reply, Kadence appeared at their side. “Mecca, there you are. I have to meet with someone for about thirty minutes. Will you be okay?”
“Of course. Kadence, I’d like you to meet Isa Friedman. She’s with the German embassy.” Mecca was still speaking German.
Kadence shook Jericho’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“She doesn’t speak English,” Mecca informed her friend.
“Would you just keep an eye on my friend?” Kadence said, her German impeccable too. “I have to attend to something quickly. I’ll be right back, Mecca.”
Kadence disappeared as the band started another dance number.
“Would you like to dance?” Jericho asked as Mecca looked up at her. For the first time, she realized Mecca had the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. They reminded her of blue ice, except for the hint of laughter that made them mesmerizing.
Jericho took Mecca’s hand and led her onto the dance floor. Thanks to the agency’s insistence that she be able to fit in anywhere, in any situation, Jericho was an accomplished dancer. Although she had complained loudly during her lessons, she did find pleasure in dancing.
Jericho enjoyed Mecca’s look of surprise as she deftly led her around the dance floor. Fortunately, salsa dancing was not conducive to conversation. The song ended, and Jericho prepared to make her exit, but Mecca caught her hand as the band began playing a slow number.
Everything in her screamed she should not hold Mecca Storm in her arms, but when has good sense ever overcome desire? More than anything, she wanted to hold her.
“How long have you been in New York?”
“No English,” Jericho said with a shake of her head, and Mecca repeated her question in German.
“Six weeks. I’ll be going home at the end of the month.”
##
Mecca stopped talking and enjoyed the pleasure of following a strong dancer. Jericho held her tight, her hand at the small of Mecca’s back forcing her to follow every move her body made. Most of Mecca’s partners tended to let her lead. She knew no one would ever lead Isa Friedman.
“Perhaps I can show you around our fair city,” Mecca offered as they made their way to one of the tables on the far side of the dance floor.
“I would very much like that.” Jericho smiled. “May I get you something to drink?”
Mecca watched her as she walked away. She was the right height and weight. She had imagined her as dark, but she was blonde. Her German had no American accent. That confused her. If she could get her alone, she would know for sure. She had no qualms about using her abilities to find out the truth when needed.
##
When Jericho returned with their drinks, Kadence was sitting at the table, laughing with Mecca. “With the commitment I just received from the chairman of Toyota, I believe we have enough money for the new wing.” Kadence almost giggled. She was as giddy as a little girl who had just received a new puppy.
Mecca hugged her arm. “Kadence, you are amazing. I don’t know of anyone as dedicated as you.”
“With Lockleer in the White House it has certainly been difficult to get corporate America to open their checkbooks,” Kadence commented. “It’s hard to get anyone to let go of a dollar. No one knows what will happen next, so everyone is hanging onto their money.
“The Japanese are still furious with him for the phony recall he made right after his election. Everyone knew it was just to pay off the automobile unions for their campaign support.
“It only took the administration two years to admit they could find no fault with the automobiles on which they forced the recall.”
Jericho set the drinks down on the table and took a chair next to Mecca, who stood and excused herself. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t go away.”
“Your wife is very beautiful,” Jericho said, trying to gauge the depth of Kadence’s feelings for Mecca.
“Oh, I wish.” Kadence watched Mecca walk away. “We’ve been friends for many years. College, med school, and residency. I’m afraid I was quite a hell-raiser. Mecca and her sister washed the vomit off me after frat parties too many times to consider me marriage material.”
Jericho was relieved when Mecca reappeared. She never liked to let the brunette out of her sight, especially at a gathering of politicians. She watched her walk toward them and was surprised to see the president engage her in conversation. He leaned down and spoke into her ear, and it was obvious Mecca didn’t like what he was saying. True hatred flashed across her face and then was gone. Turning to face him, Mecca placed her hand on the president’s forearm. He seemed to freeze midsentence. She spoke several words to him and then removed her hand from his arm. She walked away while he was still trying to talk to her. Jericho had no idea that her influence reached presidents.
Mecca rejoined them, sitting close to Kadence. She placed her hand on Kadence’s arm, drawing her full attention. It was like watching a snake charmer.
“Kadence, I’m so proud of you,” Mecca said so
ftly. “I don’t know what our profession would do without dedicated women like you.”
Jericho watched closely, fascinated by the way Mecca had Kadence under her control. She spoke in English, still unaware that Jericho could understand her. “I know you need to stay and visit with others,” Mecca said. “I’m ready to leave, and Isa has offered to see me home if you don’t mind.”
Kadence looked at Jericho as if seeing her for the first time. “Miss Friedman, I need to visit with some other people, would it be possible for you to see Mecca home?”
Jericho shrugged. “No English.”
Kadence repeated her question in German, and Jericho smiled and nodded. Kadence hugged Mecca. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know if I still have the Midas touch.” She headed for the bar.
“Would you like to go somewhere quiet?” Mecca suggested in German. “There’s a little German pub not far from here. I think you’ll like it.”
“I would like that very much,” Jericho said.
As they walked, Mecca looped her arm through Jericho’s and asked her about her home. Fortunately, Jericho had been stationed in Germany for three years and was well versed in the history and culture of the country.
“I spent two years in Germany working with one of your top research scientists,” Mecca said.
“You’re a scientist?” Jericho steered the conversation toward her. She had no idea about Germany’s top research scientists.
Mecca laughed. “Oh, no.”
Jericho saw German writing heralding the location of “America’s best German pub.” Mecca was right. The pub was quiet and intimate. They slid into a booth and ordered a drink.
“Have you eaten?” Jericho asked. She knew Mecca hadn’t, and she was starving. They ordered the pub’s specialty and began the process of getting to know one another. It didn’t take her long to realize that Mecca was very private, great at small talk, but not one to share important details.
“I couldn’t help noticing your encounter with the president,” Jericho said, watching her face for a reaction. “He seemed to be bothering you.”
“Oh no, he wasn’t bothering me,” Mecca said. “I just don’t like anyone who works to destroy my country. He and I have nothing in common. I certainly didn’t want him touching me. But enough about me. I want to hear about you.”
Mecca placed her hand on Jericho’s, leaned across the table, and looked into her eyes. Mecca’s eyes held Jericho’s as she spoke in the same even, soothing voice she had used on Kadence. Jericho knew she could get lost in those blue eyes. The light in them was captivating. Mecca was hypnotizing her. Fortunately, Jericho was not susceptible to hypnosis. Whether it was the small metal plate in her head or the mind techniques she had often used to ease the terror in Afghanistan, there was no way anyone would ever hypnotize Jericho Parker. Nevertheless, it would be good to let Mecca think she was under her power. She sat without moving and let her body relax.
“Do you like America?” Mecca said in English, testing Jericho’s claim to speak only German.
She didn’t answer, and Mecca repeated the question in German.
“Yes.”
“Do you have my phone number?”
“No.”
“Were you at the hospital when Jane Doe was attacked?”
“No.”
She removed her hand from Jericho’s arm and said, “It’s late. I should be getting home.”
Jericho signaled the waitress for the check. “I’ll see you home.”
“No need. I’ll catch a cab.” Mecca stood. “It was nice to meet you, Isa. I hope you enjoy our city.” She walked out the door before the server returned with Jericho’s credit card.
Jericho had the driver drop her a couple of blocks from her apartment building. She didn’t want to run the risk of encountering Mecca. As she entered her apartment, her phone began to vibrate.
“Hello?” She answered in her sleepiest voice, and Mecca hung up.
Jericho knew she’d dodged a bullet. She was pleased with how she had handled the situation. She was sure Mecca would not connect Isa Friedman with her. She made a mental note to keep as much distance between herself and Mecca Storm as possible. She could hear Mecca pacing the floor above her. The usually calm and collected doctor was angry. Mecca called Jericho again.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Listen, lady,” Jericho said using her sleepiest, most annoyed-sounding voice, “it’s after midnight. My job description doesn’t include taking late-night calls from drunk, spoiled rich girls. Sleep it off.” She hung up.
##
Jericho unlocked her desk and took out Mecca’s file. She had read it from cover to cover but could find no reason the government would spend millions to protect the brilliant doctor. Protect her from what?
From what she had witnessed, Mecca was quite capable of taking care of herself. Jericho perused Mecca’s photos for the millionth time. None of them had prepared her for those incredible eyes.
##
Mecca went onto her terrace. She loved New York, the city that never sleeps. How appropriate. She loved the Hudson River, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Central Park, and St. Patrick’s Cathedral. She had dedicated her life to preserving the America in which she grew up. She wondered what her unknown friend had dedicated her life to. Law enforcement, perhaps? She had certainly been a wealth of information over the past five years, but she didn’t understand why she hadn’t been allowed to meet her, know her. Why she insisted on keeping her distance from her.
Mecca was irritated that she had called her a spoiled rich girl. She wondered if that was what she thought of her or if she was just trying to create a rift between them.
Now that she knew what her informant looked like, maybe she would be able to find her. She was far more attractive than Mecca had expected. She involuntarily shuddered, recalling the woman’s hand on the small of her back. She tried to push the thought of being in her arms from her mind. She was positive Isa Friedman was a phony name. She wondered about the blonde’s real name.
Foolish woman! She honestly thought I believed I’d hypnotized her. For the first time in her life, Mecca had encountered someone she couldn’t hypnotize, and it made her more curious than ever.
Chapter 7
The sound of Mecca’s hair dryer woke Jericho at 6:00 a.m. It was Sunday, and she was getting ready for church. A staunch Catholic, Mecca never missed Sunday morning Mass. Of course, she had to go to the nine o’clock service. Jericho wished that she would opt for a later time, but that never happened.
Jericho showered and dressed quickly. When she was initially assigned to Mecca, she hadn’t considered herself a religious woman and had resented sitting in Saint Patrick’s every Sunday morning. After five years, she found she looked forward to the time spent reflecting on God and truly believed she answered to a higher power. She rationalized the “thou shalt not kill” commandment with the fact that she was protecting her country and religious freedom.
Jericho allowed plenty of time for Mecca to settle in a pew before sliding into the first seat on the back row. She was always the last to arrive and the first to leave. She quickly surveyed the people around her. Mecca’s sister and the doctors Davis and Pride made a handsome foursome.
As the music began, she bowed her head.
She wished the priests heard confessions on Sunday but knew she would have to come back during the week to seek absolution for her thoughts and dreams of Mecca Storm.
##
As every head bowed, the priest blessed the sacraments. Mecca turned to scan the audience. Isa was there, in the first seat on the last row. She whirled back around so Isa wouldn’t know she had spotted her.
After church, Mecca and her party walked to a nearby restaurant. They had been served before she finally located Isa in the restaurant. She was sitting across the room from them, but she had an unobstructed view of her. Again, Mecca was careful to hide that she was aware of her.
##
&n
bsp; Over the next few weeks, Mecca realized that the blonde was always with her, like an invisible shadow. Most of the time she had to work at finding her in the crowd, but she was always there. Sometimes her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and tucked through the back of her cap. Other times it was scrunched and hanging loose in a wild wave of glory.
Mecca knew the blonde’s help came with Mecca’s agreement to work for the government, and she had always been a reliable information source. But she’d had no idea the woman kept her under constant surveillance. For the first time, Mecca wondered if she had made a pact with the devil.
##
Mecca’s sessions with Jane Doe had yielded very little information. The woman was withdrawn and afraid of her own shadow. Mecca’s heart went out to her. One part of her wanted to rush Jane’s therapy to find out who she was. The other part of her knew she had to take things slowly and gain the woman’s trust.
Kadence had been a tremendous help to her. She visited Jane every day and spent most of her free time reading to her or just watching TV with her. They worked hard to create a safe and comfortable environment for their patient.
##
“Kadence, I’m taking off Jane Doe’s dressing this morning,” Nikki said to the plastic surgeon. “You want to check her progress?”
“Yes, definitely.” Kadence smiled. “I’m anxious to see your handiwork. She was a mess the last time I saw her.”
Their patient was sitting up and eating lunch when they arrived. “Good afternoon, Jane,” Nikki said to her. “How are you this fine Monday?”
“Good,” Jane said softly.
“We’re going to remove your bandages today.” Nikki pulled a chair to Jane’s bedside. “You’ve met Dr. Kadence Pride. She’ll be doing your plastic surgery.”
A woman entered the room and took Jane’s empty plate and tray. Jane pushed the tray table aside and exhaled sharply. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Oh, excellent angles,” Dr. Pride said with a smile. “Nikki, you’re a master. And I love these high cheekbones and the beautiful, clean jawlines.”
