by Mary Buckham
“There was another op out there,” Kelly interjected, playing peacemaker, something she no doubt had learned on the playground of the private school where she taught kindergarten. A hard role to play when you were the size of a Barbie doll facing a tank in a woman’s body.
Jayleen glanced at the other, sensing an easier mark to attack, but Vaughn deflected her.
“Jayleen’s right. Stone’s right. I screwed up.”
Jayleen’s eyes widened, letting her surprise show, something Stone would never do. “So because of you we all have to go through this again.”
“That’s right, darling.” Vaughn didn’t wait for Jayleen’s retort. She was small potatoes compared to Stone, who was even now waiting for them at the lower field, no doubt counting the seconds until he put them through their grueling paces and waiting for her to screw up. Again.
Too bad. This time he wouldn’t be the one winning. This time, she was.
Stone a sadist? Possibly. Good at what he did? Oh, yeah. Nemesis? No doubt. But none of it mattered. He thought he had her number, but he was wrong, and she was about to prove it.
“Come on, ladies,” she said to those closest, then smiled through the pain as she pushed herself off the wall. “Let’s kill the bastard this time.”
Ling Mai strolled to where M.T. leaned, arms braced on the metal rail encircling the balcony overlooking the sparring ground. A dozen women dressed in gis paired off below them, the white martial-arts outfits stark against red mats. Traditional dojo shouts of “Kai” and “Keyah” rang in the afternoon air.
He looked tired. Not that anyone else could tell. But she’d known her new lead instructor long enough to read the nuances beneath his stoic exterior, an asset in his profession but which took its toll on him as a human being.
“I understand you ran two full ops last night.” She stopped beside him, keeping her stance casual.
He didn’t glance her way. “They screwed up first round.”
“Heard you were hit, though. That’s a first.”
His jaw slid back and forth. “Hit but not taken out. Monroe has the instincts of a gnat. She won’t survive long in this business.”
Interesting. He’d mentioned this particular recruit by name more than once already. Ling Mai glanced at her hands, folded one on top of the other on the steel railing. “And yet she got close enough to take a hit on you. More than one, from what I hear. Surely that shows promise?”
He glanced at her. Not an easy look, but then he wasn’t an easy man. “She’s a debutante, not an operative. She’s a thrill junkie, using becoming an agent as she would any other new sport, new experience. It’s a game to her, a temporary phase that’ll dissipate the minute it’s no longer fun. You and I both know she doesn’t belong here.”
“She has other assets.” Ling Mai let her gaze drift to the woman they spoke about, knowing Stone’s would follow. The brunette was holding her own, paired against the former—what did she call herself?—tarot reader, Jayleen Smart, even though Jayleen weighed a good fifteen pounds more. Both women were tall, dark-haired and in good shape, but the comparison ended there.
Jayleen was street trained and savvy, a graduate of the school of hard knocks. She’d learned at an early age there was no one but herself to depend upon in the jungle of life. She might look like the Queen of Sheba by the way she carried herself, but the only kingdom she’d ever ruled was a stretch of Chicago’s lower South Side.
Vaughn looked like a ballet dancer compared to her, light and agile on her feet, using speed and dexterity against the other’s more solid moves and lunges. Her polished looks belonged on glossy magazine pages; in real life, she had graced more than one cover.
Was that why she disturbed Stone? In their business, anonymity was a plus. An agent needed to blend into the locale, not stand out.
Stone was an exception to that rule, and it’d never hurt him. In their former assignments, his looks had been used time and again as a lure. So it seemed strange that he’d hold Vaughn’s cover-model face and body against her. Did the fact that Vaughn looked like fine porcelain instead of sturdy stoneware make him want to shelter the woman from the harsh realities of their world? If so, that could raise a problem.
Ling Mai would keep an eye on the situation. She intended to use Vaughn for the Russian op as soon as the woman could hold her own. Stone would understand soon enough that Ling Mai had chosen well. In the meantime, he had a job to do and he’d do it. She hired only the best and was determined that this new program succeed. All she needed was the initial team, a group of strong, determined women—no less than five, no more than seven—who could prove that Ling Mai’s theory would work.
Keeping her voice level, she asked, “And the others? You’ve already cut six.”
“You’re asking for the impossible here and you know it. They have no background for this, outside the odd sport here or there. I’ll be lucky if I can keep any of them.” He didn’t bother to hide the frustration in his tone or in the pointed look he shot her.
“We’ve covered this before, M.T.”
“And you know where I stand. You want cannon fodder, you ask someone else to do this.”
“You’re the best.” Then she added the selling point. “You also know you’re their only chance.”
He exhaled, as telling as a shouted curse from any other man.
“And if they’re not ready?” he asked, kneading his right shoulder and the scar branded there.
“You’ll make them ready. There is no choice.”
He turned back, bracing his hands against the hard metal railing, his gaze surveying the women below. Ling Mai noted where his glance immediately rested.
Very interesting.
She said nothing, waiting in silence for Stone’s unasked question.
His voice sounded even wearier than earlier. “Is there any other way to reach your objective?”
“Meaning going back to trained law enforcement recruits instead of these women?”
“Exactly.”
“I’ve told you before, this is an experiment.” She shrugged, but it did little to ease the tension clutching her shoulders. A tension no one but she carried in this endeavor. “It might work, it might not, but we’ll never know if we don’t take the risk. The alphabet agencies have lost too many undercover operatives recently for us not to think outside the box.”
“This isn’t out of the box, this is off the damn screen.”
“I agree that these women don’t have the standard background of more traditional undercover agents, but I believe that’s in their favor.”
He nodded toward the women below. “You’re talking about hairdressers and con artists here, Ling Mai. And a bloody kindergarten teacher.”
“And one debutante.”
His jaw tightened, another telling gesture from a man who rarely betrayed any.
After a moment’s silence shimmered and cooled between them, he asked, “How big an operation is this?”
She’d been waiting for this question and regretted she could not offer him more at this time.
“In terms of assets?” she asked, buying a moment.
“In terms of importance. Any chance the team you’re assembling could be mixed? Include a few seasoned ops with these newbies?”
She’d considered the option, and discarded it, knowing the direction she planned on taking the Agency, knowing, too, the team was intended for more than an immediate assignment. Their world was filled with impossible choices, and this was just another one of them.
“Unfortunately it might cause problems.”
“Problems? Is there a leak?”
The man always went for the jugular.
“No. Not that we know of.”
He pressed. “You don’t trust me, Ling Mai?”
“Never crossed my mind.” That was the truth. She trusted his skills, his loyalty and his discretion, the last a valuable commodity in their profession. “You shall find out all you need to know in due time.”
He slanted her a crooked grin. It didn’t soften his face. “As in several months of time?”
“Something like that.”
“You are a very hard woman, Ling Mai.”
“As you are a very hard man, M.T.”
The grin slipped away. She regretted keeping him in the dark for even the short duration, but tucked the thought aside, looking once again at the women below.
“What about McAlister? The schoolteacher.” Ling Mai focused their attention on the petite blonde looking as out of place on the dojo floor as Stone would in the woman’s home turf, the cornfields of Kansas.
Stone gave a shrug. “Not bad. Not as bad as I expected.”
“But?”
“Time will tell. She reminds me of my third-grade teacher. Marshmallow soft covering a core of steel.”
“I still hear a but, M.T.”
“I don’t know if she’ll ever be a field agent.”
“She’s done some community theater in her hometown. That should help. It’s in her file.”
“Playacting is not the same as undercover work and we both know it. Besides, all the files are scant when it comes down to real info. I’d say they were pretty well culled over before being passed along to me.” His gaze slid to Vaughn again.
“The files were meant to give you enough to start with and let you form your own opinions.”
“And if I buy that line, you have a swamp in Florida to sell me.”
She gave him a real smile. “A very nice swamp, M.T.”
His gaze shifted back to the blonde now pinned to the mat, giving her opponent an atta-girl grin. “McAlister will probably make it. If she stays away from Monroe.”
“Problems between the two?”
“Not per se. McAlister has a savior complex. Might work behind a desk, or with five-year-olds, but could cause problems in the field.”
“Are you saying McAlister steps in to save Monroe?”
“Like the country mouse saving the city cat. Not necessary. But McAlister tends to act as a deflective shield around the other and Monroe doesn’t stop it enough.”
“Does she need to?”
“Not yet. But it’s a bad habit to develop. Debutante using the peasant as a shield.”
“Pretty harsh.”
“I’m not here to pretty up the picture.”
He was right. Ling Mai glanced at another of the recruits. “And Alexis Noziak?”
“A bulldog. You could tell she was raised with brothers. You say she’s a hairdresser?”
“The correct term is beautician. She does nails, too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gave her a reluctant grin, before adding, “The surprise is that she’s acting like McAlister around Monroe. Stepping in to show her how to drop, roll and run. Puts in extra time with her on the dojo floor.”
“We are building a team here.” She allowed a pleased hum to escape. Maybe her theory had promise after all.
“It’ll be my team. The members I select to work together. Not a girls’ club and certainly not Monroe’s.”
Was this the problem then? Was the tension humming between Vaughn and M.T. any time they were near each other a power struggle—one leading by instinct, the other creating a logical, cohesive whole? They didn’t have to be mutually exclusive goals, as long as Stone could accept and respect an agent bred from a different type of woman. Accept and work side by side with an agent whose assets lay not in her law-enforcement background but in other skills and abilities. Ones invisible to most people.
Ling Mai decided not to push for answers. Yet. The answers would show themselves soon enough. “And what about Jayleen Smart? The tarot reader.”
“Is that what we’re calling her?”
“It will do.”
He ignored the bait, and instead answered, “She’s good. Very good. Probably stands the best chance of staying the duration.”
How much did Jayleen’s progress have to do with incentive? In some ways, she was their biggest risk. Her background made her different from the other women. So did Vaughn’s, for that matter. Opposite ends of the spectrum.
Ling Mai glanced at the two women still sparring with each other, perspiration darkening their gis visible from here. She wondered if she should ask Stone to increase their training schedule. Less than three weeks before the Russian made his first move. But if Stone knew that, would he wash his hands of the whole project here and now? Choices, it always came down to choices.
“And Jayleen’s interactions with Monroe?” Ling Mai kept her tone neutral. Monroe slapped Jayleen to the mat with a double backward twist, then held out her hand to help her opponent up. It was ignored.
“Water and oil.” Stone shook his head. “No love lost between those two.”
“Any obvious reason why?”
“No clue.”
Stone was the type who made sure he understood his students inside and out before he’d allow them to pass training, even if the staff psychologist cleared them. If there were something going on between two potential agents, he’d know why. Probably already did. But he wasn’t saying.
In this she’d trust him. For now. She had her own theories as to what was happening and would explore them more closely. She would hold her questions.
She turned toward Stone. “Will you have Monroe stop by my office when she is free?”
Stone’s look asked questions, but he only nodded.
“Then I shall leave you to your work.” She turned on her stiletto heels to leave.
“Ling Mai?” He straightened away from the rail, his gaze brooding.
“Yes?”
“If she isn’t ready I will eliminate her from the team, regardless of whether she’s one of your handpicked ones.”
There was no need to say who she was.
“You forget, M.T. They are all my handpicked ones.” Each and every one with a skill that no training could enhance and that would serve its purpose in due time.
“It’s not like you to sidestep the hard issues.”
“As it is not like you to question my judgment.” She let an edge coat her tone.
“It’s not your judgment I’m questioning. I’ve never approved of slaughter.”
Neither did she. Which was why she had chosen Stone to lead and train them. She hadn’t lied earlier when she had acknowledged he was their best hope. He might be their only hope. “Your concerns are duly noted.”
“Noted and discarded.”
“You are looking at only a portion of the picture,” she reminded him gently, her need for discretion not his fault. “I am looking at a larger image.”
He took the rebuke silently, as she’d known he would.
She walked away, knowing the issue was unresolved. An unusual occurrence. He hated to lose an operative, whereas she knew that sometimes there was no choice.
Chapter 2
Vaughn faced Alex on the dojo floor, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. Alex would give her best, but Vaughn was confident she could hold her own. After trouncing Jayleen, anything was possible.
“You’ve improved.” Alex wiped sweat from her forehead. “Last week I could take you no problem.”
“That was last week,” Vaughn said with a grin.
“Want to put a twenty on the fact that your luck’s about to change?”
Vaughn laughed out loud. “Luck has nothing to do with it. Double it and it’s a bet.”
“You’re on.”
Vaughn stepped back, only to run into a wall of muscle. She froze.
“If you ladies have time for jokes here, then you must not be working hard enough.”
Alex straightened and Vaughn did the same. Stone crossed from behind her to stand between them, his expression as unforgiving as his words.
“It wasn’t that, sir,” Alex started before Vaughn’s look stuttered her into silence.
What was the point? If the other woman explained the difference between a joke and competition, Stone would just go harder on her. Vaughn was
the target here, not Alex.
Stone must have noted the exchanged look, or had been expecting it. He turned toward Vaughn and she caught herself working not to stiffen.
“So, deb, you want to explain the joke? Share it with the group.”
“There was no joke.”
“Are you saying I didn’t hear you two laughing?”
“I was unaware sparring was to be done like machines, sir. Without emotion.” At one time, Vaughn had understood the concept of discretion. Not that she’d ever been very good about implementing it.
Alex sucked in her breath as Stone stepped closer to Vaughn, those black, black eyes of his narrowing.
He towered above her. “Emotions can get you killed in the field.”
“I’ll embroider that on a pillow.”
There was a snicker somewhere behind her. The whole group would pay for her inability to hold her tongue. But she’d pay first.
Fine. Bring it on.
“You think this is a joke, Monroe?”
“No.”
“Out of the way, Noziak.” He barked the order to Alex as he stepped face-to-face with Vaughn, his movement automatically slipping into a warrior’s stance. “We’ll see how the debutante feels about emotion after she faces a real fight.”
At last. Just the two of them, going at it.
Vaughn’s vision narrowed, focusing only on Stone, accentuating every sharp angle of his face, the determination darkening his eyes. Adrenaline surged through her, giving her a heady sensation. Or maybe it was fear. Around this man, they were twins.
She stepped back, circling as he was, blocking out the others moving in closer for the show. A universal response to bloodletting.
Stone was larger, stronger and way more experienced than she. But she had something he didn’t. A reason to fight. For him, this was a lesson; for her, it was payback. She might go down in agony, most likely would, but she’d get a few licks in first. And those dangerous eyes of his, if nothing else, told her he understood where she was coming from.
He made the first move. A half feint forward, one a child could have dodged.
