by Cindy Dees
Great.
Anya cooed not too quietly from the other side of the room, “Way to go, ’Bella! Where’d you scare up two such cute guys?”
Cute? Nah. Hot, for sure. Drop-dead gorgeous, maybe. But neither man was cute. They were too mature, too self-possessed, too…lethal…to qualify as cute. Isabella raised an eyebrow at the pair. “Are you two sure you can handle nineteen and perky?”
Beau grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Are you kidding? She’s not jailbait and she’s perky? Sign me up.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “Lay a hand on her and I’ll rip it off. Kapische?”
“Aw, ’Bella! Don’t be such a party pooper,” Anya complained.
Beau winked at Isabella. “Don’t go reminding me why I’m all hot and bothered by you, now, sugar. I love it when you talk tough.”
Isabella laughed at his silliness and was doubly amused when she caught a glimpse of Dex’s jaw rippling in irritation. She turned to her charge, enunciating each word clearly. “Anya, honey, for the record, you’ve never met any men like these two. Take it from me. They’re way out of your league,” and as the girl opened her mouth to protest, she added, “And you’re way out of theirs. Flirt all you want with them, but don’t expect anything in return.”
Isabella turned back to the men, and Dex drilled her with an offended look. “Why’s she out of our league?”
“Despite spending most of her life in Australia, she has grown up in a Muslim household. Back home, she’ll have a big family full of angry brothers, cousins and uncles. You wanna mess with her, you better be prepared to marry her. Are either of you looking for a wife?”
Dex’s gaze faltered. Yeah, that’s what she thought. It was okay to fool around with perky nineteen-year-olds, but heaven forbid that wedding bells were part of the equation. At least everyone was clear on tonight’s rules of engagement.
But then he commented under his breath, “Do the same rules apply to you?”
Whoa. That sounded like more than professional interest. “Who wants to know?”
His gaze narrowed. More irritation. The boy couldn’t figure out whether to be civil or irascible tonight. Sheesh, and they said women were moody!
Anya grabbed her coat. “Let’s go!”
Isabella had to admit the girl’s enthusiasm was contagious. Anya chirped about everything she saw, and all but pressed her nose against the car window as they made their way out of the Olympic complex. They drove downtown and even managed to snag a parking spot reasonably close to Main Street. They got out and the two men fell in on either side of Anya, relegating Isabella to advance lookout position. Isabella moved ahead and took point, keeping her gaze moving at all times, on the watch for any possible threats.
Main Street had an almost alpine feel to it, with quaint storefronts pouring bright, cheerful light into the evening and snow-covered mountains looming in the distance. The occasional car crawled down Main Street, but mostly the road belonged to the pedestrians. Music poured out of Olympic Square two blocks away, and even here, people danced to the beat. Anya was no exception. Beau jumped right in with her, grabbing her by the waist and swinging her around.
Isabella frowned, but Dex muttered, “Better him than a total stranger.”
Good point.
Dex and Isabella trailed behind Beau and Anya. She didn’t know about Dex, but she felt like a serious fifth wheel. It was incredibly awkward walking along beside him, trying to blend in with the partiers, all the while keeping a sharp eye out for hostiles. Only inches separated their shoulders, but a Grand Canyon-sized chasm yawned between them.
Anya and Beau led the strange little parade to a gourmet pizza joint where Dex had a quiet word with the maître d’. A table was forthcoming immediately.
As they wound through the crowded restaurant, Isabella leaned close and asked, “How’d you do that?”
He scowled. “I called ahead and made a reservation.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Boy Scout,” she accused.
“Hardly,” he muttered.
They got a booth in the corner, no doubt also arranged by Dex. Ideal for security purposes. For some reason, the fact that Dex had arranged all this bugged the hell out of her. Sure, it was professional and she ought to be impressed with his thoroughness, but they were out on the town. Couldn’t he ever see past the job and look at her?
Stop the presses. Rewind. Delete. She was not interested in Dexter Thorpe. He was arrogant, opinionated, chauvinistic and a general pain in the butt. Okay, so he was attractive as the devil. But she was no fool. She had no intention of even hinting at interest in this man, her boss. End of story. But…it might be fun to mess with his head a little bit…and she knew just how to do it.
“Hey, Beau,” she purred. “After the Olympics are over and everyone goes home, where are you going to be stationed?”
“I go into training status for a few months down at the schoolhouse.”
That would be Fort Bragg, home of the Delta detachment. “Outstanding! The Medusas are in training until the end of the year.”
Did Beau cast a glance at Dex? What was up with that? Beau smiled brilliantly at her. “Sounds like a date.”
“Hey,” Anya protested. “I want to flirt, too.”
Beau laughed and leaned back in the booth, stretching his prodigiously muscular arms across the back of the vinyl booth behind both women. “Yup, yup. This is one tough assignment,” he sighed, “a beautiful young lady on each arm.”
It was a little closer quarters than Isabella was comfortable with, but she wasn’t about to move away. Especially not with the cold look Dex was throwing at his man. Anya, however, had no compunction about draping herself all over Beau.
Despite Isabella’s earlier threat, she didn’t have the slightest worry that Beau would go too far with Anya. He might flirt like crazy, but he was a complete gentleman. He’d make Anya feel like a million bucks and then send her home, virtue safely intact.
“So, Dex,” Isabella asked lightly. “Where are you off to after all this fun?”
“To train his sorry ass,” Dex grunted.
Isabella leaned close to Beau. “You better share the girls or he’s going to make your life miserable when you get back inside the fence.” The fence was the heavily guarded compound inside which the Deltas did most of their training. It had been one of the triumphs of the Medusas to be among the first women ever allowed inside that fence to train.
Beau shrugged. “He lives like a monk, anyway. Never goes for the girls.”
“Girls being the operative word,” Dex retorted. “I prefer mine grown-up.”
Didn’t like having his appeal with the ladies questioned, did he? Isabella pushed the button he’d just revealed. “Well, I can’t say as I’m surprised to hear he doesn’t get much action with the ladies,” she said.
On cue, Dex straightened indignantly. “And why’s that?”
“Oh, no reason,” she said vaguely. In her experience, men always hated nebulous answers that relied solely on female intuition.
He scowled and ordered two extra large pizzas with the works when the unlucky waiter showed up at their table. Anya entertained herself by checking out the single men in the restaurant and guessing at their nationalities. Meanwhile, Beau kept up a steady stream of chatter, mostly moaning about Anya’s fickle, wandering attention.
At one point, Beau turned to Isabella and said, “Well, at least I can count on you to be loyal.”
She cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t be so sure of me, Breckenridge. I’m not yours, yet.”
Dex jolted beside her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her highly developed peripheral vision. Damned if he didn’t look startled, annoyed even, by her comment. What was going on with him? If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was acting possessive. But Lord knew, he didn’t have any personal interest in her. She glanced over at Beau speculatively. Unless Beau knew Dex better than she did. Why else would the guy flirt like a maniac with her in front of his b
oss? Beau was trying to goad Dex. Was he trying to push Dex at her? Romantically? Surely not.
She looked back and forth between Beau and Dex, and the Southerner grinned unrepentantly over Anya’s head. Oh, yeah. She’d pegged it dead on. Now what was she supposed to do about it?
The pizzas were delivered to the table, and Anya dug in enthusiastically.
Ever since survival school, where she’d indulged in such delicacies as grasshoppers and earthworms, her perception of edible food had altered radically. The sloppy, loaded pizza looked eminently fit for human consumption right now, but she was working. She took a piece and put it on her plate, but didn’t touch it as she kept an eye out for any patrons who might make a threatening move.
A hand touched her thigh under the table and she leaped in surprise. Dex. She looked over at him.
“Eat,” he murmured. “I’ll take a turn at the watch.”
“Thanks.” She ate a couple quick pieces of pizza. It really was delicious. The festive atmosphere, Anya’s infectious laugh, and the escape, even if just for a moment, from responsibility for Anya’s life unwound the tension across the back of her neck for the first time since she’d seen Anya get off that plane. She was more aware of the stress by its absence than she had been by its presence.
“You ought to smile more often,” Dex remarked.
She blinked, startled. “Why?”
“You’re pretty when you smile.”
She retorted. “Yup, and I’m a troll when I don’t. Remind me to frown whenever I’m around you guys.”
“You’re hardly a troll. Hell, I have trouble keeping my men’s attention when you walk in during briefings.”
She snorted. “With Misty, I’d believe that. But not me.”
He glared. “Look at yourself in the mirror sometime.”
She rolled her eyes.
Beau chimed in. “He’s right, Isabella. Not all of us guys go for untouchable, ice queen blondes. Consensus at the ops center is that you’re the babe of the bunch. That’s why I’m going to land you for myself one of these days.”
She stared in shock and Anya laughed uproariously at the expression on her face.
“Incoming,” Dex murmured.
She went from zero to full battle alert in about two milliseconds. She’d never been so grateful for a potential deadly threat in her life. Her gaze roamed the room quickly, and she spotted three young men just walking in. They looked to be of Eastern European or Middle Eastern descent. As much as she’d like not to react with suspicion to all groups of young men with that particular combination of coloring and features, she had no choice. Like it or not, they matched the M.O. of the men in her last two encounters with whoever was trying to harm Anya.
She felt like a fraud, sitting here, sharing the same heritage and yet eyeing those young men like they were probably terrorists. But such were the times she lived in.
“Let’s go,” Anya announced suddenly. “I want to go to the block party.”
Great. Every night at 9:00 p.m. Main Street closed at both ends to vehicular traffic, and the live rock concert from Olympic Square was broadcast on large-screen TV’s up and down the entire street. It turned into a huge party. The good news was that no one knew Anya would be there and so no one would be looking for her. The bad news was thousands of people crowded the street, and the odds of someone spotting her and taking advantage of the opportunity to harm her went up exponentially in a crowd that size.
Dex looked over at her, one eyebrow raised, as if to say, “Your call.”
To Anya, Isabella commented, “You really want to find out just how good we are as bodyguards, don’t you?”
The girl shrugged. “I’m sorry. But given the choice of living my whole life like a monk or enjoying it and taking a risk, I opt for the latter. Surely you can understand that, can’t you, ’Bella?”
She winced. Okay, Anya could quit poking that particular Achilles’ heel any time now. “Yeah, I understand,” she answered reluctantly.
“Explain it to me, then, because I don’t,” Dex growled. “Why are you going to let your subject expose herself to danger?”
“How much more danger will she be in lost somewhere in the middle of a crowd than she is standing all alone in the middle of a figure skating rink with thirty thousand spectators?”
“The spectators are security screened.”
Isabella waved off the argument. “You and I both know plenty of ways to get around that sort of screening. And so do bad guys if they’re halfway serious.”
“So you’re going to let her do this?”
Isabella smiled, but with an edge to it. “With you two super-heroes here to look after her, why not? You’re invincible, right?”
Dex scowled. “I’ve been around long enough not to be goaded into doing something stupid.”
“Aw, c’mon,” Anya cajoled. “It’ll be fun. You’re too serious, Dex. Loosen up a bit.” She added slyly, “I’d hate to have to call the IOC and complain about my bodyguards being stick-in-the-muds.”
He sighed. “Don’t blackmail me, little girl. I’d chew you up and spit you out.”
Anya pulled back. She was just experienced enough with men to realize she’d just played with fire and been lucky not to get burned. Isabella grinned as Anya mumbled under her breath, “What a grouch.”
Isabella muttered back, “Welcome to my life. He’s my boss.”
Anya rolled her eyes. “No wonder you’re so tense all the time. I feel your pain.”
Dex’s scowl made Isabella laugh. And it felt really good to find a reason to laugh at Dexter Thorpe. It made him more human somehow. He threw her a look that promised revenge, tossed down the money to cover the pizza and a tip, and the four of them made their way out of the pizzeria.
The block party was loud, crowded, and rife with happy drunks. Anya waded right into the mass of dancing humanity, and to keep up with her, Isabella found herself plastered against Dex in short order. She glanced up at him, chagrined, and he grimaced down at her.
Hey. She wasn’t that disgusting! A little annoyed, she waited until the next time the crowd jostled her into him and then she turned slightly so the front of her body came into contact with him. Intense awareness shot through her, an electric jolt that made her shiver all over. Hunk alert. He was as hard and overpoweringly masculine as she would have expected.
He got a surprised look on his face. “Wow. You’re…more fit…than any woman I’ve ever—” And then it must have dawned on him where he was taking the conversation.
What the hell did that mean? More fit. That she was hard? Unfeminine? Or did it mean he was impressed with her strength and conditioning? If he thought she was buff, he ought to check out Misty, a triathlete, or Vanessa, who worked out constantly.
After about an hour of being bumped around like socks in a washing machine, Anya’d had enough. Besides, it was ten o’clock, her bedtime. She had to skate in the morning. They made their way back to the SUV and drove back to the Olympic village.
Isabella commented, “I can take her from here, boys.”
Dex retorted, “My mother would tan my hide if I didn’t walk a girl to her door after a date. And I fear her a whole lot more than I could ever fear you.”
“We weren’t on a date!”
“Nonetheless, I’m walking you to the door.”
Rather than argue further and turn it into a big deal, she acquiesced. A date? With Dex? Never.
Anya was safely tucked in her room when Dex’s cell phone rang. A few seconds later, Isabella’s rang as well. The two of them stepped outside to get the calls and Beau stayed inside with Anya.
“Go ahead,” Isabella said into the receiver.
“Ops here. We got a report that Harlan Holt’s lab was just entered. Night security guard for the building says Holt’s access card opened the lock. It appears your guy’s turned up in Syracuse.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “Have you paged the other Medusas?”
“Not yet.”
> Dex covered his receiver and spoke to her. “Tell the Medusas to meet you at the ops center ASAP.”
She relayed the instructions to the ops controller, who said he’d call her teammates right away and pass the message.
Dex opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Hobo, you’ve got guard duty for the next few hours. And no hanky-panky.”
Beau’s crisp acknowledgment of the order drifted out into the hall.
Dex turned to her. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 12
“My gear’s at my place,” Isabella said as Dex pulled away from the curb. He nodded tersely and directed the SUV to their apartment complex. A quick run inside, and she came out with her heavy pack slung over one shoulder and her utility belt slung over the other. Then they were off to the ops center.
“So what does a girl have to do in this town to requisition a helicopter?” she asked.
Dex glanced over at her, eyebrows raised. “You want a helicopter?”
“How else will we get to Syracuse in time to snag our guy and have a chat?”
“Drive over, pick up his trail and track him down the old-fashioned way.”
She shook her head decisively in the negative. “It takes hours to drive all the way across the state. We’ll lose too much time. He’s the key to something major.”
“What am I going to tell Manfred Schmidt about why you need a helicopter?”
Ouch. Good point. She thought for a few seconds. “How about telling him there’s a problem with the ice in the venue and Dr. Holt is needed at the rink ASAP?”
“So you want me to lie to cover for you?”
She answered slowly, “No, I don’t want you to lie. But you’re the one who asked the Medusas to make Holt a priority. It’s a question of what’s more important. Finding Holt and figuring out what he’s up to, or chancing a political wrangle with Schmidt and Holt getting away.” She shrugged. “You’ve been in the field longer than I have. You probably know better than I do when the ends justify the means.” He was a team leader after all. He was charged with responsibility for the moral choices his men made.
