[The Exit 01.0] Next Exit, Three Miles

by CW Browning

  “Hi!” Angela kissed the air next to Alina's cheek and shifted over to make room for her at the bar. “I put our names in for the table in the back corner.”

  “How long is the wait?” Alina asked.

  “Forty minutes as of twenty minutes ago. I just beat the rush.” Angela smiled at her happily, her green eyes dancing. “I'm so happy you agreed to come! I can't get used to seeing you again!”

  Alina smiled despite herself and suddenly knew why she had come. Regardless of who and what she was, Angela and Stephanie had helped make her into the woman that she was now. They were still a part of her.

  “What are you drinking?” Angela asked.

  “Just water right now,” Alina said, motioning to the bartender. “I'll have wine with dinner,” she added when she saw Angela was about to argue.

  “Yes, well, there's something you need to know about dinner,” Angela told her, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “You may want something stronger.”

  Alina looked at her and the look on Angela's face told her all she needed to know.

  “John's coming,” Alina stated instead of asked. Angela put her drink down on the bar and put both her hands on Alina's arm.

  “I had nothing to do with it,” she hastened to explain. “Stephanie texted me about half an hour ago to say that she was on her way and was bringing John and that other agent that is working with them. I asked what I was supposed to tell you and this is what she sent back.”

  Angela fished in her purse for her blackberry and held it out to Alina. Alina glanced down at the text on the screen.

  Remind her that she said she would be fine with him.

  Alina bit back a laugh. She could see why Angela wasn't about to give her the message verbally. Stephanie could have worded it a bit more tactfully.

  “Really, it's ok.” Alina looked over to the bartender. “A glass of water with lemon, please.” She looked back at Angela. “Have you met the mysterious other agent yet?”

  “Not yet.” Angela tucked her blackberry away again and drained half her martini in relief. She had been dreading telling Alina about John. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but Alina was so different now, she hadn't known how she would react. “Stephanie seems to be more amenable to having him around, though. They must have come to some form of agreement on division of labor.”

  Alina chuckled and accepted her glass of water from the bartender.

  “He must be sitting back and giving Stephanie her space,” she commented.

  Angela nodded with a grin.

  “I'm expecting a little man who is about five foot three and as boring as they come,” she confided. “My guess is that he's a paper-pusher who lets other people do the dirty work while he takes all the credit.”

  “That's a pretty harsh assessment.”

  Alina watched as Angela finished her drink. Angela set the empty glass down on the bar and shrugged.

  “I bet I'm right, though,” she retorted. She picked up her slim clutch purse from the bar. “I have to run to the ladies’ room.”

  Alina nodded and watched as Angela disappeared into the crowd. As always, she was immaculate. Her hair and make-up were perfect, her nails flawless, and her high heels Jimmy Choo. Alina ruefully admitted to herself that she had always felt under-dressed when she was with Angela. She glanced down at herself and turned to lean her back on the bar so she could scan the crowds. She just had time to stop and change before heading to the restaurant. The black cargo capris and deep purple halter top that had seemed appropriate for a casual dinner with friends now seemed a trifle too casual. However, Alina could honestly say that she was perfectly comfortable being a little too casual. She could move freely in her loose pants, and the halter top hid the sheathed military survival knife that was nestled in the hollow of her back. The knife was usually strapped to her ankle, but the black patent leather and wood platform heels on her feet had necessitated a wardrobe adjustment.

  Angela's name was called over the intercom and Alina straightened up. She started to move toward the hostess stand and caught sight of Stephanie and John stepping into the restaurant. Their suits were rumpled from a long day and John had discarded his tie, while Stephanie had unbuttoned the top four buttons on her tailored shirt. They both looked tired and hungry. Damon followed them in, looking crisp and fresh in black slacks and a deep blue button-down shirt. Alina's lips twitched. What was he up to now?

  John caught sight of her first and said something to Stephanie. Alina motioned for them stay near the hostess as she moved through the crowd effortlessly. Her eyes met Damon's over Stephanie's head as she grew closer, and Alina saw the gleam of pure amusement in his bright blue eyes. Her own narrowed slightly, which brought a grin to his lips. Stephanie turned to him as Alina walked up and the grin disappeared before she could see it.

  “Damon, this is Alina. She is a very old friend of mine,” Stephanie introduced them. “Alina, this is Damon Peterson. He is working with John and I temporarily.”

  Alina held out her hand to Damon.

  “A pleasure,” she murmured.

  Damon grasped her hand, his eyes gleaming again.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” he answered with an easy smile.

  Alina pulled her hand away and turned to face John.

  “What a nice surprise!” Alina smiled smoothly.

  “Almost like old times,” John answered, looking down at her. Their eyes met briefly and Alina caught a whiff of an old familiar smell. The man still wore the same cologne.

  “Not quite,” Alina answered.

  She turned to give Angela's name to the hostess.

  “John, behave!” Stephanie hissed behind her back.

  Alina heard John chuckle and she suddenly felt as if she was trapped in a farce.

  “This way.” The hostess told her, turning to lead the party to the back of the restaurant and the large corner table, partially obscured by a large potted cactus.

  The lighting was more subdued in this corner of the restaurant and two lit tapers cast a comforting glow over the dark scarred wood. It was quiet and partially set aside from the rest of the tables in the section. Alina wondered briefly if Angela had requested it with the thought that any scenes between herself and John would be less likely to be noticed back here.

  Alina headed for the seat partially hidden behind the cactus out of habit. It had its back to the wall and afforded an excellent view of the rest of the restaurant. She reached it at the same time as Damon. She looked up into his blue eyes and he grinned ruefully. He pulled out the chair and motioned for her to sit.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, sinking into the chair.

  “Great shoes,” he murmured in her ear.

  He took the seat next to her with a smile and Alina was suddenly glad of the poor lighting. A warming sensation was stealing up her neck and she strongly suspected that, for the first time in years, she was blushing.

  “Where's Angela?” Stephanie asked, seating herself next to Damon. John sat on Alina's other side.

  “She had to go to the ladies’ room,” Alina answered. “Here she comes now,” she added, somewhat relieved to have John and Stephanie turn their heads toward Angela. John had looked at her curiously as he took his seat, causing Alina to wonder if he had noticed her warm cheeks.

  “Hello, hello.” Angela swirled up to the table and dropped into the last chair without ceremony. “Why, hello!”

  She caught sight of Damon and Alina watched her mouth drop open.

  “Damon, this is Angela,” Stephanie introduced them with a laugh. “Angela, this is Damon Peterson.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Damon said with an easy smile.

  “You can close your mouth now,” John said blithely, reaching for one of the menus.

  Angela flushed.

  “I have no idea what you're talking about,” she retorted, snapping her jaw closed. “Did you find the restaurant ok?” she asked Stephanie.

  Stephanie nodded without looking up from her p
erusal of the menu.

  “GPS,” she answered absently. “I am starving.”

  “I'm not surprised,” John said. “You haven't eaten all day.”

  Alina picked up her menu and lowered her eyes to it, trying to ignore the patently curious man beside her. He was soaking in every comment and every look like a sponge.

  “Typical.” Angela looked at Damon. “You'll learn quickly that Stephanie is a workaholic,” she informed him. “She just puts blinders on and forges ahead. I'm convinced that there are days she forgets to eat altogether.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” Damon answered easily, setting his menu aside and smiling. “She's the same way. I have always maintained that she's trying to make up for the fact that she is a woman,” he added with a grin.

  Alina closed her menu with a snap. She set it down and glanced at him, her eyes flashing. Damon met her look blandly and her eyes narrowed.

  “She may be,” John said. “Stephanie, I mean.”

  He hadn't missed the flash in Alina's eyes or the glance to the man next to her. He watched her lazily under his lashes.

  “Don't be ridiculous.” Stephanie finally looked up. “I work hard because I can't stand leaving anything undone.”

  “I, on the other hand, have NO qualms about leaving my work at work,” Angela announced with a laugh.

  “What do you do?” Damon asked.

  “I work for a bank in the anti-money laundering department,” Angela answered. “Fascinating, I know, but someone has to do it. I have no responsibility whatsoever. So I can, and do, leave work all the time,” she added with a laugh.

  “I wish I had that luxury,” Stephanie said wistfully.

  “Do you find it challenging trying to make a career in the FBI as a woman?” Alina couldn't help herself from asking. She was genuinely curious. Stephanie thought for a minute.

  “It's not any more challenging than I would imagine it is making it in any other male-dominated field,” she said slowly. “I've been lucky in the sense that I have always had supportive bosses over me. I learned very early on that anything that I had to prove, I only had to prove to myself.”

  “That's an incredibly healthy outlook,” Damon remarked.

  Stephanie shrugged.

  “Yes, but I have been very lucky,” she said. “There are other women who haven't been so lucky.”

  “Did you run into that problem in the military?” John asked Alina.

  Everyone looked at her and she shrugged.

  “It was the military,” she said, as if that was all that needed to be said.

  The waitress came to take their orders and Alina was relieved to be out of the limelight for a moment. The sudden surge of remembered frustration that coursed through her at John's question had been unexpected. She had been able to overcome the feeling of inferiority that she experienced starting out in boot camp by becoming the best in her unit, but the memory of the anger and frustration from years ago caught her by surprise.

  “Should I order a bottle of wine?” John's question pulled Alina back to the present. He was looking around the table questioningly. “It seems a little redundant for us all to order glasses.”

  “Sure!” Stephanie agreed. “I think I am done with work for the night.”

  “Oh my God, make it a bottle of champagne!” Angela chirped.

  Stephanie laughed.

  “Oh, stop picking on me,” she said. “Can't we pick on someone else? What about Alina? She looks like a workaholic too.”

  “No, she just looks dangerous,” Angela retorted with a laugh.

  Damon glanced at Alina in time to catch her slight, non-committal smile before she turned her attention to the waitress with her order. Damon flicked his eyes quickly around the table, fascinated. This was a part of Alina's life that he had never been able to discover, despite numerous attempts. She always kept quiet about where she came from and who she had been before the military. Stephanie and Angela's easy humor was clearly something that Alina had always been part of, and John was also clearly something more than what anyone had told him. Damon saw him catch the flash in Alina's eyes earlier, and had been amusing himself by watching John watch her ever since. Alina actually had a past!

  “I don't know if dangerous is the right word,” John said when Alina had finished ordering. He looked at her consideringly, his blue eyes serious. “It's more of a look of....experience,” he finally decided, “but I can see the danger hiding underneath.”

  Damon finished ordering and turned back in time to see Alina's slight smile again.

  “Interesting thought,” she murmured. “I wonder what could have happened in my past to make me look dangerous?” she added, her dark eyes meeting his.

  Damon raised an eyebrow slightly at the sudden silence that fell on the table. Stephanie sat back in her chair with a barely audible sigh, and Angela pretended to examine her nails while her eyes avidly watched Alina and John. Alina saw the sparkle of amusement that leapt into John's eyes.

  “I don't know. I'm not the one who said you looked dangerous,” he replied slowly before the amusement reached his lips in a slow grin. “Of course, there's nothing cast iron within reach.”

  Alina couldn't help herself. She leaned toward John and lowered her voice, forcing him to lean in closer.

  “Oh, trust me,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his. “I don't need cast iron to be dangerous anymore.”

  Alina sat back slowly, satisfied to have caught the flash of surprise in Johns eyes before his mask of amusement slid back into place. Unfortunately, she could feel Damon's curiosity radiating from her other side. Alina accepted with an inward sigh that he was never going to let her get out of explaining this entire exchange.

  “Speaking of dangerous,” Angela stepped smoothly into the brief silence. “What did you do in the military, anyway?” she asked Alina.

  Alina was silent as the waitress came back with their drinks. When the glass in front of her was filled with red wine, Alina reached for it almost thankfully. This dinner was getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Once the waitress left, she looked around the table. The only person not waiting for her answer was Damon, and he had such unholy laughter in his eyes that Alina couldn't trust herself to look at him again.

  “I was in military intelligence,” she finally answered.

  John's eyes widened in surprise, but Stephanie didn't look surprised at all. Angela's mouth fell open again.

  “Seriously?” Angela was the first one to respond. Alina nodded, reaching for her wine again. She felt a little like she had just walked in front of a window naked and the whole street had looked in. There was a short silence before Angela threw her hands up in the air. “So what you're saying is...I'm the only one at this table who has never carried a gun to work!” she exclaimed.

  Alina blinked and her lips twitched. Stephanie was rolling her eyes, John was looking at Angela like she had two heads, and Damon was clearly about to start laughing at any minute. Not one person at the table thought anything was amiss with her having been military intelligence, and not one of them was a threat to her. Relief made Alina's lips twitch again, and then she burst out laughing. Stephanie and John started laughing, and then Damon. Angela looked around with wide eyes.

  “What?” she demanded. “It's true! I feel left out.”

  “Angie, you really are something else,” Stephanie finally got out. She looked over at Alina, whose shoulders were still shaking. “And you!” she pointed to her. Alina raised an eyebrow. “It's so nice to see you laugh again! Finally!”

  Damon looked at Alina and watched as she shrugged. Her eyes were still alight with laughter and he suddenly realized that he had never actually seen her burst into uncontrolled laughter. There was always something hooded in her eyes, somewhere that the laughter didn't quite reach. He sat back thoughtfully, reaching for his wine. This was certainly a different side of Viper.

  And one that he strongly suspected she had long forgotten.

  C
hapter Five

  “Frankie Solitto?” Alina stared at Damon over the top of her refrigerator door. “Are you kidding me?”

  Damon grinned and shrugged.

  “It's right here in her report,” he answered, dropping the folder onto the counter and walking over to join Alina at the refrigerator door. After dinner they had all gone their separate ways. He had circled back and shown up at her back door, where she’d been waiting for him. “I don't suppose there is any beer in that fridge?”

  “No.” Alina handed him a bottle of water and pulled out another one for herself. “And you shouldn't be looking for one anyway. You'll get soft,” she added with a grin, letting the fridge door swing closed and smacking him in his rock-hard abs. He raised an eyebrow as she passed him and glanced down at his flat stomach before following her.

  Grabbing the folder off the counter, she continued into the living room. A large, over-stuffed, chocolate colored couch faced a fireplace and an over-sized leather recliner was angled off to the side. A flat screen TV had been mounted above the mantel, but Damon got the feeling it had never been turned on. This was not where Alina lived. The coffee table was dark wood, mission style, and void of a single speck of dust. There was one large jar candle in the center, and that was the only thing that showed any sign of use. It was a quarter of the way gone.

  Alina dropped onto the couch and pulled her bare feet up next to her, curling into the corner gracefully. Damon settled in the recliner, his eyes dropping to the red nail polish on her toes. Somehow he could not begin to imagine Alina getting a pedicure...or even painting her nails herself. It was just completely at odds with what he knew to be her priorities.

  He sat back and sipped his water, watching as she scanned over Stephanie's report. The house was saved from complete silence by the distant ticking of a clock in the front of the house. Damon looked around. He wondered if the house had already been furnished when she moved in, or if she had picked out the furniture. While tasteful, there was no personality in the rooms. Nothing gave any clue to the character of the person who lived here, with the possible exception of being extremely neat. Everything had its place. There was no clutter. No personal pictures. No magazines. No DVDs. Damon idly wondered where she had hidden the remote for the TV.