Shadow Soldier

by Dana Marton

  “Oh, yeah?” Alex pulled up to full height, but then smirked at Spike. “What kind of opinion will they have of you when they find out a girl did you in with an ashtray?”

  Spike cleared his throat. “Um…I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention—”

  His ringing cell phone cut him off. He listened to the caller for a few seconds, then handed the phone to Nicola. “Your father. They’ve got him on a secure line.”

  Among the slew of emotions that swirled inside her, relief was the strongest, surprise a close second.

  “Are you okay?” they said at the same time.

  “I’m fine,” she said as her father waited. “Somebody tried to shoot me this morning.” Her knees went weak as the words brought back the memory.

  “I know. Are you okay?” he asked again.

  “They missed.” She walked to the living room so she could sit on the sofa. “I’m a little shaken, but I think I’m safe now.”

  “You are. I’ve been assured that you have the best protection. Just sit still. Is there anything you need?”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she heard him this worried over her. Over bills, vetoes, votes, sure. But not her.

  “I’m sorry I’m not there for you. They wouldn’t let me come.”

  “It’s fine. Really. I’m taken care of,” she said after a moment, resorting in her surprise to her old if-you-don’t-want-me-that’s-fine-because-I’m-selfsufficient-and-I-don’t-need-you routine.

  Except that right now it seemed he really did care and wanted to know that she was all right. She didn’t doubt the sincerity of his concern, but it didn’t make up for the years of neglect. And it was hard to forget that she was in this situation because of his job, a job she’d hated since she’d been a child.

  “Tomorrow I’m going to—”

  “Listen, I better go now,” she said, cutting him off. She was glad to hear he was well, but beyond that they had little to say to each other. “Take care of yourself. Be careful.”

  She could hear him take a deep breath.

  “You, too,” he said.

  NOT HAPPY TO SEE his SUV go, Alex watched Spike drive down the long driveway without turning on the lights. Now he was stuck with Spike’s black sports car—faster than the SUV, but not nearly as good on dirt roads if things came to that again. Unfortunately, since the shooter already knew his vehicle, he had no choice but to trade it for the Batmobile that screamed its owner had more testosterone than common sense.

  No, that wasn’t true. Spike had plenty of common sense, just not when it came to danger or cars or women. Still, Alex trusted few men as he trusted him. When it came down to the wire, the man knew how to get things done.

  He had asked him to check out Shaozu, even though he itched to do it himself. After some pressing, Nicola had admitted to a couple of business lunches with the man. More than was warranted, in Alex’s opinion. And now the flowers. He didn’t like the idea of Shaozu sniffing around her.

  He turned back into the house, locked the door and set the security system. Didn’t look forward to the night. Spending it in the same room with Nicola gave him zero chance of sleep. He looked up at the sound of her feet on the stairs as she came down.

  “There’s nothing up there.”

  He tried not to laugh at her accusing tone. She had probably gone up to check out the sleeping arrangements. Had to be awkward for her, too, first time with a live-in bodyguard. He wished he knew what to say to set her at ease, but he wasn’t exactly at ease himself.

  “Where will we sleep?”

  Leave it to her to tackle the question head-on. He liked that about her, the unflinching honesty and guts to face things even if they were uncomfortable. “You take the pullout sofa, I’ll make do.” He carried a chair to the window and settled into it. He was used to sleeping in a sitting position.

  Nicola looked over the sofa, then began to set it up. He didn’t offer to help. She managed fine on her own. The farther he kept from her, the better. “Sheets and pillows are in the hall closet.”

  Once they were in Washington, the Colonel would round up some extra bodyguards from the FBI to share shifts. He might even be able to talk the man into letting him go after the shooter. Not that he didn’t think Spike capable. Spike was good, maybe even better than him for this particular operation. He spoke both Mandarin and Cantonese, in addition to another dozen or so languages. He had come to the SDDU from the FBI’s language program.

  Alex had come from the Army Special Forces. He and the others, Rangers, Marines, SEALs, Special Agents, had their old connections, making it easy for the SDDU to draw on the strength of a variety of organizations. That was the beauty of the SDDU—its people. The Department of Homeland Security had handpicked them from the best sources.

  Nicola was lucky, even though she would never know who protected her. Alex leaned back in the chair, folded his hands behind his head and stretched his legs.

  She finished the bed and was settling in for sleep. Without a blanket. The night was definitely warm. He turned his head toward the window to find a safer view.

  NICOLA WOKE to the sound of running water. Couldn’t have been more than four or four-thirty, judging from the faint light of dawn outside. She was used to getting up early, especially on the days when she worked out, but today it pained her. It seemed they’d only gone to sleep a few minutes ago.

  She looked toward the source of the noise. The bathroom door was open—probably so Alex could keep an eye on things while he showered. And he was definitely showering. She could see him through the clear glass.

  Oh, my.

  Standing with his back to her, he bent to shut off the tap. She had trouble breathing. He straightened and shook the water out of his hair, then pushed the door open.

  The dim light of dawn showed enough to be overwhelmed by the outlines of well-muscled limbs, the curve of his buttocks as he turned, the width of his shoulders. He reached for the towel and looked right at her.

  She felt powerless to do anything but stare, her mouth so dry it hurt to swallow.

  He toweled the water off his body with unhurried movements, got dressed in the clothes he’d left on the back of the toilet, then went over to the sink for a shave. She looked away finally, then with full muscle control regained, threw herself into activity. She had the bed made up by the time he finished.

  “I…you…could have closed the door,” she managed to say when he walked out into the living room, then felt stupid as soon as the words left her mouth.

  His gaze bore into hers and held. “You could have turned around.”

  Nicola flushed. Touché.

  She yanked the towel off the finch cage, grasping for those last fleeting shreds of her dignity, and welcomed the instant bickering that filled the silence.

  “Those two hate each other or what?”

  “Pretty much. They fight over the nest.”

  “They have two.”

  “I know. They both want the same one.”

  “Captivity can bring out the weird in anyone.”

  Tell me about it. She tapped the cage as Tweedle Dum pulled a puff of feathers from Tweedle Dee. They quieted at the noise, but she knew the peace would be temporary.

  Alex picked a can from the counter and began to open it. Even under the long-sleeved black shirt, she could make out the play of muscles on his back.

  She needed to think about something else. “Chili for breakfast?”

  The birds kicked off a new argument.

  “Probably better than any of the MREs.” He seemed focused on the can opener.

  Good. They were on a whole new track now, the shower incident forgotten. By him anyhow. It would take her more than one lifetime. “When are we leaving for Washington?”

  “As soon as we get the call.” He dumped the chili into a pot and turned on the stove. “You should get some more sleep.”

  “I’m fine. I can sleep in the car.”

  He nodded as he stirred. “You can’t go outsid
e for your Tai Chi. You’ll have to make do in here.”

  Oh, Lord, had he watched her every morning? She’d practiced religiously since Mei, her best friend in China, had taught her years ago. “I think I’ll skip.” Tai Chi was about relaxation as much as movement. Relaxing. Ha!

  She’d seen him naked.

  She doubted she would be able to relax by the time she was old enough to be a grandmother.

  Get a grip. She couldn’t think about Alex’s naked body. She had to focus on staying alive. She had to find out as much as she could about her situation.

  “Is Spike on your team?”

  “Yeah. Kind of.”

  “I suppose I would have expected more activity after a terrorist attack.” She hadn’t even had to file a police report. That seemed odd. Wasn’t there some kind of protocol to follow when someone almost got shot into mosquito netting?

  “There’s more going on than you know. Right now the FBI is doing everything to find the guy.”

  “Are you FBI?” She fiddled with her necklace.

  “Something like that.”

  Another meaningless answer, when she’d thought she was finally getting somewhere.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” She tried to temper her frustration, but being kept in the dark was almost as bad as being in danger.

  If she didn’t know what was going on, she couldn’t very well make good decisions, decisions on which her life depended. She thoroughly resented the fact that her father and some unknown organization presumed to know what was best for her.

  “So you’ve noticed me at the gym,” he said out of the blue, making her forget that she was about to call him onto the carpet on the secrecy issue.

  Must be he didn’t think she’d had enough embarrassment for one day yet. “You grunt when you bench press.”

  “I do not.”

  “Do, too. Starting at about two hundred pounds.”

  He quirked a black eyebrow, his gaze steady on her face as he stirred the pot on the stove. “You watched me that closely, huh?”

  She chose to ignore him. The aroma of spices filled the kitchen, but her stomach, clenched into a tight fist as it was, couldn’t properly appreciate it.

  He pulled the food off the stove and brought it over.

  “No, thanks.” She put her hand on the disposable plastic bowl he had set out for her. “I’ll try one of those MREs. Figure it’s my once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

  “If you’re lucky.” He grinned and piled the chili into his bowl.

  She got up to find something among the rations that sounded remotely tolerable. They ate breakfast at quarter after four, spicy organic chili and beef ravioli in the semidarkness.

  Her toes tingled under the table.

  WHEN THEY STILL hadn’t gotten the call by noon, Nicola was worried. Alex had spent the day obsessively checking the property and the sensors, while she tried just as obsessively to keep out of his way.

  “Do you think something went wrong?” she asked when she couldn’t take the silence any longer. Maybe the terrorists had attacked her father and the FBI had forgotten all about her. Her chest tightened at the thought.

  “I’m in no hurry,” Alex said, flat on his back, his hands behind his head. He sat up, his nose touching his knees. “The closer I am to Washington, the more likely someone will snag me—” he lay back down “—to write one of those loathsome reports.” He came up again.

  He stopped his sit-ups and reached for his phone, and she thought he was going to call after all, but he started to speak into it as soon as he flipped it open. They must have buzzed him.

  “Ready?” He listened to whoever was speaking on the other end. “Can’t they send someone else?” He listened again then swore before he ended the call.

  “Time to leave for D.C.?”

  He shook his head. “They got the shooter. He’s singing like a bird. He and his brother were on some personal vendetta against your father. You’re going home.”

  She needed a moment to adjust to going back to her normal life so abruptly. From one moment to the next everything kept changing. She didn’t have the kind of skills it took to handle such chaos. She’d barely accepted for real that she’d been attacked, and now apparently she was out of danger. God, she was getting whiplash.

  Oh, what the hell was wrong with her, feeling disgruntled because things were changing too fast? The authorities got the shooter. She could go home. She waited for the rush of relief, but it didn’t come.

  Shooter in custody or not, it would take time to regain her sense of security.

  “I’ll be going home all by myself?” The thought of being alone after what had happened yesterday was less than comforting. “I guess now that everything is back to normal… I don’t suppose—”

  Since she had raised such a fuss about him guarding her in the first place, it would probably have looked pretty stupid if she begged him to stay with her a little longer.

  “I’m coming with you to spend the rest of the week,” he said with a barely disguised groan before he left the house to collect his sensors.

  Oh, thank God. “We’re going home, babies,” she whispered to the finches bickering on the coffee table, oblivious to the sudden end of danger. If there were any ruffled feathers among the three of them, they were definitely hers.

  ALEX PARKED on the other side of the street for a while. Nothing suspicious. He scrolled through the fields on his cell phone. Spike had set the security after he’d left Nicola’s house. Didn’t look like there had been a breach.

  He pushed a button, and the garage door opened.

  “How did you do that?” Nicola stared at his phone.

  He grinned at her astonishment and slipped into his pocket the special-edition cell phone that had saved his life on more than one occasion. He pulled into the driveway, then into the garage next to Nicola’s car.

  “How did my car get back?”

  “Spike.” He closed the garage door.

  “May I take the vest off?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Your windows aren’t bulletproof.” He got out with his gun drawn. “You stay behind me.”

  “I hate being a prisoner in my own home. Hated it as a child, did whatever I could to get away from it as an adult. Doesn’t look like it worked, does it? All I wanted was some freedom.”

  “I understand.” And he did. For him it was second nature to be always looking over his shoulder. But Nicola was a civilian; she wasn’t used to this. Nor should she have to be.

  “What about the Tweedles?” She hesitated to follow him.

  “Let’s check the house first.” It didn’t seem smart to bring noisy birds along while they tried to sneak around. He didn’t expect any surprises in there, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  “Okay.”

  “You have to admit it’s strange that someone who values freedom as much as you do would keep caged birds as pets. Kind of symbolic, don’t you think?”

  She gave him a funny look. “For your information, they were a gift. And they like their cage.”

  He crooked his eyebrow.

  “That’s what they’re familiar with. They wouldn’t know what to do outside. Probably couldn’t even find food. I am not being mean to them.”

  “I didn’t say you were.” He lifted his finger to his lips to signal to her to be quiet as he opened the door that connected the garage with the house.

  He wasn’t satisfied until he checked everything from basement to attic. Then he set out to double the sensors, and let her get on with whatever it was she wanted to do, while he kept an eye on her. Despite frustration over his baby-sitting assignment being extended, watching Nicola Barrington move around the house was by far the most enjoyable task he’d had lately. After Yemen, maybe fate figured it owed him a good turn. He wasn’t going to question it.

  She was incredibly feminine. Not in the sense of femininely fragile, but head-to-toe real woman. He couldn’t be near her
and not be aware of her, aware that he was a man. She was a contradiction—all soft curves on the outside, but on the inside the kind of quiet strength rare even among men. At every turn she had stepped up to the plate. She’d had the presence of mind to get into his car and away from the terrorists, held the wheel while he stopped them from following, defended herself against Spike. Her life had been taken apart then put back together again in the last twenty-four hours and her eyes never teared.

  Alex watched as she brought the finches in from the attached garage—he had allowed her free movement as long as she didn’t go outside. As soon as she set the cage on its stand and pulled the cover up, the birds began to chirp and fly around, which pretty soon escalated into another fight over the nest. She appeased them with some seeds, then walked out to the kitchen, her movements as graceful as a dancer’s. Another thing he liked about her—the fluidity of her stride, the easy flow of limbs with which she accomplished even the most ordinary tasks. Probably came from her Tai Chi practice. He wondered if she’d gotten into the habit of her daily morning exercise while she lived in China.

  She moved on to the kitchen and, to his regret, out of sight. Pots rattled. Dinner? He’d forgotten that neither of them had eaten since lunch, eight hours ago. Now that the noises filtering in from the kitchen reminded him, his stomach growled for attention. After countless months of existing on MREs, he would have given anything for a home-cooked meal.

  He fought the urge to go in there to watch her. Instead, he went outside to check on the sensors he’d set around the perimeter of her property and added a few extras, wishing the Colonel would call with an update. He would have liked to know more about what the captured gunman had said.

  THE GENERAL SET DOWN his teacup and turned his head to escape the pungent odor of its contents. The mixture of Chinese herbs was great for his headaches, but the taste was hard to tolerate. But then, one often had to put up with a certain amount of unpleasantness to get results. “Are you sure?”