by Alison Kent
A picture of a man flashed on the screen. He was handsome and well-built with a look that spoke volumes about hard living.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted to know if the rumors were true and Gina was dead. I told him that you were alive and kicking and ready and able to put the deal together. He wants to see you and insisted that you show up in a public place.”
“Where?”
“There’s a party at the British Consulate in four days. You’re to be there and the Ghost will give you his terms for the shipment of military weapons we have for sale.”
“I have four days to learn how to be Gina Callahan?”
“We can keep your contact to a minimum. It’ll be quick and dirty and then we’ll get out of there. I picked the consulate. The Brits will make sure to search everyone before they go in, so there’ll be no weapons.”
“Frost, bring up that file Mark sent you. Allie, pay close attention. We’re going over Gina’s acquaintances, friends, business associates, including her former boyfriend, Spike. You’ll have time to study it later in more detail.”
Once they went through the file, Drew said, “That’s about it for today. I’ll meet you all at the Watchdog training facility in thirty minutes. Don’t be late. I also want you there tomorrow at 0600. Allie will need plenty of practice and an introduction to weapons.”
WHEN THEY exited the building, Jason was standing on the sidewalk.
“I want to be a part of this, Miller. Callie would want me involved. One more layer of protection for Allie.”
“She could use it,” Drew admitted.
“C’mon, man.”
“Follow us, but keep in mind, Kyoto, that I’m the team leader. What I say goes.”
Jason gave a curt nod.
Thirty minutes later, Allie asked, “What is this place?” They pulled through a manned security gate located in an isolated area just on the outskirts of LA.
This used to be Camp Walker, named for General Walton H. Walker, who got the nickname Patton’s Bulldog in the Second World War. It’s a decommissioned fort that Watchdog has taken over. The main training complex has three dormitory buildings, a dining hall, a library, a classroom building, administrative offices, a large gymnasium and an obstacle course called Bulldog Run that is normally used by trainers to get new recruits into shape.”
“Am I going to run an obstacle course?”
“No, Allie. We need to focus more on self-defense and get you up to speed on the world of spies and covert operatives.”
“Thank you. I usually only run if someone’s chasing me.”
They pulled up to a squat white building with no markings and nothing to indicate it was a gym facility.
“It’s so nondescript,” Allie said.
“It’s meant to be that way.”
Pulling into a space, Drew and Allie exited the car and entered the facility.
She went into the women’s locker room and took off her hoodie and sweatpants, revealing a T-shirt and shorts beneath. Shivering slightly, she grabbed a hand towel off a table by the door and exited the locker room.
Drew was waiting for her and he led her to a room with pads on the walls and floor. Thad and Leila were sparring and warming up. Jason was looking crestfallen, leaning against the wall and Frost was stretching.
Drew turned to her and indicated that she should fold into a sitting position. “How much self-defense training do you have?”
“Not much. I took a course with LAPD about three years ago when I was in college.”
“That’s good. Let’s face it. Five days of training isn’t going to get you squat. What we can do here is to teach you some skills that’ll give you live individuals to practice on, and make you more prepared to help yourself if you get into a hairy situation.”
“I don’t want to get into any hairy situations, Drew.”
“I know, but it pays to be prepared. Self-defense is about using your brains, not your brawn. In fact, the tough part is your mind. Self-defense is about your body being yours and no one else’s, about making your own choices and controlling your own life, and about doing whatever is necessary to stop other people from hurting you. Self-defense is not about hitting and kicking people.”
“So I have to be some kind of Jedi Knight and use my mind to back them off?”
Thad chuckled and Frost looked at Allie, his dark, un-readable eyes hooded.
Allie shifted and said, “Sorry, I know this is serious. I really do, but it makes me crazy and I respond with jokes.”
Drew leaned forward. “This is dead serious and you’re not cut out for this, but we’ve got to make a bad situation work for us.”
“Gee, thanks for the confidence, Obi-Wan,” Allie said, deadpan.
Drew gave Allie a look that made her sit up straighter.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m listening.”
“What I’m going to teach you is simple. These techniques are for escape and evasion. There are other things you can do with them, but the main idea here is to give yourself some room to run, and some time to do it. Let’s talk about strike points.” He stood.
Allie followed suit.
“You already know where they are and what they do. You’ve known since grade school. If you poke someone in the eye, in the throat, hit them with a palm on the bridge of the nose, strike to the groin, kick them in the front or side of the knee—these will all hurt, distract, whatever—and it works on everyone. None of these points are covered by muscle, fat or any kind of padding. Size and condition doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is how hard you strike.”
Thad moved in next to Drew wearing full body armor, with catcher’s-mitt-like pads covering his hands.
“I’m going to demonstrate each move and I want you then to try it. Remember, strike as hard as you can. Thad is protected and won’t feel a thing.”
“Have a good go, sheila.” Thad grinned.
“You want me to strike at his face?”
“I’ll use the pads,” Thad assured her. “No worries.”
“To strike at the eyes and throat put your index and third finger together, curl the others to the palm.”
He took her hand in his to show her the correct positioning. It was the first time he’d touched her since he’d kissed her in the conference room, and she was electrified by his touch.
She wanted him, and it had been so long, so very long since a man’s touch had made her feel it to her core; a whole new level of thrill went through her. Her options were dwindling fast. Not that he wasn’t a gentleman. He was, and no one had more control of himself than Drew—just the thought of all that control was enough to make her want him even more.
He took a breath, letting her know that she wasn’t the only one affected by this sexy thing between them, this hot, sizzling chemistry that worked like a drug.
“Don’t hyperextend your fingers, merely hold them rigid. Strike straight forward into the eye or right above the hollow of the throat.” He caressed her fingers into a spear-like configuration.
He demonstrated by jabbing toward Thad’s face and Thad brought up the catcher’s-mitt-like pad. Drew’s strike went straight into the thick protective pad.
“For the throat jab, don’t strike directly into the hollow, strike about one-half to three-quarters of an inch above it.”
Drew put his full force into the strike and Thad used the pad to block. When he indicated she should do it, Allie moved into position and put all the energy she could muster into the strike.
When her fingers hit the pad, Drew nodded. “That’s good, but don’t pull your punch.” He touched her shoulder and moved his hand down her arm, giving her goose bumps. “The force comes from putting your body into it, letting it flow from your shoulder down into your fingers. It’ll only be effective if you disable someone. When he’s down, you move out double-time.”
She nodded.
“For striking at the bridge of the nose—”
“Can’t that kill a
person?”
“Yes, it can, Allie, but in our business it’s kill or be killed. It’s a good aggressive move, but if you have to use this move, you won’t be on the offensive. Hit and run. That’s what we’re after here.”
“It scares me, Drew,” she said.
Leila snorted, Frost shook his head and Jason looked disapproving.
Thad gave her a sympathetic look.
“Captain, this is a mistake.” Leila moved forward. “What was Murdoch thinking? She’s a liability any way you look at it.”
“He made the decision because Callie Carpenter is lying in a French hospital unable to fulfull her mission. We’re very close to getting the Ghost. Allie’s participation is a necessary evil.”
“There you go again, being so positive,” Allie said. She turned to Leila. “It’s true that I’ve never done this before, but that doesn’t mean I can’t. I’m capable, but all this cloak-and-dagger stuff scares me. At least I’m honest.”
Leila turned away in disgust. “And what’s with scowling boy over there? What’s in it for him?”
“My sister hired him to protect me,” Allie answered, feeling the need to defend Jason even though she was still mad at him.
“You heard him. He wants to become part of the team,” Drew said quietly, a warning in his voice.
Leila sauntered away from Drew and his warning. “A slot that has to be earned,” she said.
Jason pushed off the wall. “You want a piece of me, kifujin samurai?”
“Lady Warrior. I like that. I want to see what you’ve got.” Leila smirked.
“I got plenty, kanojo. But martial arts aren’t about violence.” Jason squared his shoulders and clenched his fists.
“We’ve got ourselves a Japanese monk.” Leila scoffed.
He walked up to her and bent to look her in the eyes. “Believe me. I am no monk.”
“No. You’re a yakuza.” Leila raised her chin, her gaze never wavering, a quiet challenge for Jason to defend himself.
Allie gasped.
Jason’s lips tightened, but he said nothing. He pulled the black T-shirt over his head, revealing the extensive tattoo of a dragon he had on his body along with blue clouds, maple leaves and gorgeous cherry blossoms.
The colorful inked pattern covered him from collarbone to waist where the design disappeared into the loose-fitting black pants he wore. Allie wondered exactly how far down the tattoo went.
Leila studied the markings as she circled him. “Tattoos have always been an important part of the Hawaiian culture. Although I’m part Colombian, I recognize the meanings. Hawaiians embrace them as a form of celebration, a means of self-expression and membership in a tribe.”
Jason moved his head to keep her in his sight. “Mine signals that I was part of a tribe, but not the one you think.”
“Speed tribe?” she sneered. “Still a bunch of thugs.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed, but instead of getting tenser, he relaxed more.
“You shouldn’t speak about things you don’t understand.”
Drew said very softly, “Leila, you would be the last person I would expect to throw stones.”
She turned to him with a stricken expression. Her face flushed with shame and her eyes flashed with anger. Allie understood. It was Leila’s shame that drove her to attack Jason. It reminded Leila of her own dishonor. Whatever that was.
“I would test him, Captain. It’s my right as part of the team just as it’s part of Allie’s training to learn self-defense. I know who I’m working with in her—a novice. But this man is untested.”
Drew looked at Jason. “What do you say, kid?”
“I’m no kid. I lost that distinction a long time ago, Miller,” Jason said.
“Your call, then.”
“I will fight her, but I don’t need to prove myself to anyone.”
Allie wished she could be as sure and confident as Jason, faced with all these lethal people.
“What do you say, 893?” Leila taunted.
Allie whispered in Drew’s ear, “Why did she call him that?”
“The yakuza are proud to be outcasts, and the word yakuza reflects the group’s self-image as society’s rejects. In regional dialect ya means eight, ku means nine, and sa means three, numbers that add up to twenty, which is a losing hand in the card game, hana-fuda. The word means flower cards. The yakuza are the ‘bad hands of society,’ a characterization they embrace in the same way that American bikers prominently tattoo the slogan Born to Lose on their biceps.”
“Oh, so she’s not being nice.”
“No, she’s not. Jason will have to hold his own.”
“He’s twice her size.”
“Here’s where you’ll see that size and strength don’t matter.”
Leila attacked as soon as Jason bowed, but he was ready for her and flipped her onto her back with such a calm, controlled move, Allie was astonished and impressed.
Before he moved away, he sent his hand over Leila’s shoulder and down her arm. “You have soft skin, kanojo.”
Leila stood and laughed, not the reaction that Allie had expected. “Not bad, 893, not bad. You can stop calling me sweetheart. It’s distracting while I kick your ass.”
She came in low and, with one smooth move grabbed his fingers and had him down to the mat. He whirled his body, broke her hold and was easily on his feet, but not before his hand gently grabbed her ponytail, the strands of her dark hair filtering through his fingers. “Now we’re even, kifujin samurai,” Jason said quietly.
The look Leila gave Jason was one of anger and…desire? Allie wasn’t sure because Leila attacked again. They grappled, neither one giving any quarter, two hard, slick bodies battling for control. When Leila got the upper hand, she didn’t hesitate. She brought him down. When she had him on the mat, she bent down and kissed him full on the mouth. “How was that, koibito?”
Leila was sweating. Allie had a feeling that it took a lot to make this woman sweat.
Jason looked so hot there on his back, his chest heaving from his exertions, the delineation of muscle and smooth skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He seemed lethal. His dark eyes held the secrets of the Orient, promises of both pleasure and pain. His hair spread out on the mat, gloriously black, streaked with red, wet at the tips.
Leila felt it. Allie could see it in her breathing and in her eyes as she stared down at him for a moment. He was an anime hero come to life.
“Lover?” he asked.
“In your dreams,” Leila replied.
“I’d prefer anywhere, anytime, babe,” he said, then Jason smiled, stunning Leila for a second, Allie was sure. Allie had been the victim of that man’s smile when he was working for her. When she’d thought he was gay and she didn’t have a chance with him. His smile could win any woman’s heart.
With a move that only a pretzel could do, Jason rose and threw Leila off. When she came at him again, he manhandled her like a master, his hands all over her until Leila was swearing and growling like a beast.
Jason went in with a smooth move and threw Leila. Allie gasped as the woman flew toward her. Allie tried to move out of the way, but it was too late. Leila rammed into her, a stunning blow to the left side of Allie’s body. Leila’s momentum slammed Allie into the wall and they both dropped like stones.
6
THE VOICE came from somewhere on her right. She recognized it instantly—and it was definitely her sexy undercover watchdog. She quickly calculated the odds of spontaneously disappearing without a trace and figured they were pretty slim.
Too bad.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and then confessed, “No.” She didn’t have the strength to maintain a lie. Leila Mendez had rung her bell but good. Her shoulder throbbed and the side of her temple stung.
“Do you want some water?”
Drew helped her sit up and all four members were standing around her. Allie was mortified that she’d been knocked unconscious.
“Hey
, Allie,” Jason hunkered down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“Neither did I,” Leila said, chagrined. “I’m really sorry. But, girl, you can take a hit. You weren’t out for more than a few seconds.”
Great. She’d impressed the warrior lady with her KO stats. “Thanks. I think.” Allie wanted to stand, but was not sure she could.
She took the water Drew offered instead.
“Why don’t you all hit the showers and get out of here? Allie and I’ll meet you at the regular place.”
They filed out and Drew helped her stand.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“No, I’ve got the mother of all headaches.”
Drew walked over to his bag and pulled out a bottle of painkillers. “I always need to take some after a session with that bunch.”
A man with a plan that sounded like it could save her, which was his specialty, she guessed.
“They’re tough and scary,” Allie said, accepting the tablets from his open palm.
Her gaze rose to his mouth, and her blush grew even hotter. No one kissed like Drew Miller—long and slow, and wet and deep, like his next breath depended on her kiss, his mouth molding to hers as though they were made for each other, his body so strong and hard up against her, moving against her. She could have kissed him forever.
But things were getting complicated between them and she felt his withdrawal as keenly as she felt her headache deepen. “I’ll just go get a shower.” She limped out of the room with as much elegance and class as she could muster.
In the locker room, she sat down on a bench and tried to gather her composure. Jason was just as lethal as the others, maybe more so. He was a loose cannon, belonging to no one organization. She was thankful he was on her side. But a yakuza? Japan’s most notorious organized crime syndicate? He’d been part of that? A thug? She wasn’t sure she could ever trust him again.
