Medusa’s Master

by Cindy Dees

  “You love him a great deal, don’t you?” Jeff murmured.

  How did he do that? If she didn’t know better, she’d say the guy was, indeed, psychic, the way he picked her thoughts out of thin air. “He meant everything to me.”

  “Past tense. He passed away?”

  She nodded.

  “When?”

  Under normal circumstances, she’d politely change the subject about now, or if someone waxed persistent, she’d tell them outright it was none of their business. But for some reason, she found herself completely lacking in her usual reluctance to talk to Jeff about Hidoshi.

  “He died when I was seventeen.”

  “How did you end up in the States?”

  To her knowledge, she’d never answered that question to a single living soul. Only a few anonymous clerks in the American consulate in Seoul knew once and had hopefully forgotten long ago. Jeff stopped walking and turned to face her as if he knew this was something very private and personal to her. He could really stop doing that.

  She ventured to look up at him and was startled at the depth of compassion glowing in his gaze. It wrapped around her, offering comfort and quiet understanding. In her own sudden flash of insight, she realized he’d lost someone very close to him, as well. He knew the pain, the loss and bewilderment of her entire world evaporating in an instant. And maybe that was why she answered his question.

  “When I was going through his personal effects, I found something.”

  Jeff waited patiently, merely patting her hand a little in encouragement.

  “My birth certificate. I’d never seen it before. I didn’t know—” She hadn’t even known her mother’s name until then. It had never occurred to her that Hidoshi might have tracked the woman down in the opium dens of Seoul’s slums and found a nameless orphan’s identity for her. His quiet, un-swerving love, even in death, had moved her to her first and only tears after he’d died.

  Kat glanced up and realized she’d just been standing there, remembering, and Jeff was still patting her hand.

  She continued, startled by the catch in her voice. “I didn’t know my father was American. I took my birth certificate and went to the American consulate in Seoul. They researched it and found out he was a serviceman stationed in Korea at the time I was born and was known to keep a Korean mistress. They decided my birth certificate was legitimate and issued me a U.S. passport. All of a sudden, I was an American citizen.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “I doubt he knows I exist.” A spurt of shame took her by surprise. She’d thought she’d gotten over that long ago. She shrugged. “But it’s okay. I had everything I needed growing up. I had no need to drop into some foreigner’s life and ruin it.”

  “You’re a remarkable woman. Any man would be proud to call you his daughter.”

  Suspicious heat filled her eyes. She said lightly, “I have to give your mother credit. She certainly taught you good manners.”

  He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. “I didn’t say that to be polite, dammit. I mean it. You’re smart and beautiful and athletic as hell. You’ve got it all.”

  That’s what they all said. Hearing the same old line from Jeff disappointed her. She sighed, then replied emotionlessly. “You’re doing what everyone does—judging me purely based on what you can see. You don’t know me at all.”

  “Ahh, but that’s where you’re wrong. We’re alike, you and I. We’re soldiers. We live by a code of honor most other people scoff at, but we don’t care. We can and do kill without regret. It’s part of keeping our country safe, so we do it. We take our work seriously and have both made sacrifices, particularly in our personal lives, to do this job we love.”

  She blinked up at him as he fell silent. She supposed they did know a lot about each other after all, just by the nature of the profession they shared. It took a certain type of person to do what they did.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t usually climb on that soapbox. And besides, you know that chorus already.” He turned and they continued down the beach in silence.

  They’d walked for maybe another ten minutes when Kat noticed lights nestled in the midst of a verdant forest carpeting the mountain that rose steeply on their right. “What’s that up there?”

  “The Gray estate.”

  “It looks white to me.”

  Jeff chuckled. “The mansion is white. But the owners are Carson and Lucy Gray. They own about half of this island.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He comes from a shipping family. Owns a big fleet of container ships. He donated the caves to us, in fact. His wife is American. A geologist of some kind. Supervised the construction of the H.O.T. Watch facilities. They have three or four kids now. Nice family. I see them on the beach sometimes.”

  “How long has the H.O.T. Watch complex been operating?” Kat asked curiously.

  “Construction started about five years ago. It’s been up and running for about a year.”

  She nodded. “That would explain why I haven’t heard of it before now.”

  He grinned over at her. “You have your secret Medusa Project, and I have mine.”

  She smiled back. “Touché.”

  Without warning, her purse erupted into sound, her cell phone emitting the custom ring that indicated the office was calling. Simultaneously, Jeff reached for his buzzing cell phone.

  She flipped open her phone. “Go ahead.” No need to identify herself. Anyone who had this number knew who she was.

  “Jennifer Blackfoot here. Sorry to interrupt your evening, but we need you and Maverick back here. There’s been another robbery.”

  Chapter 5

  Jeff thought fast. They needed to get back to the Bat Cave right away. It would take them a good hour to hike from here to a road, get a taxi to the south beach, and board the minisub for the long ride back to the H.O.T. Watch complex. Or they could use the emergency entrance, which was quite a bit closer.

  He looked over at Kat’s filmy silk dress and asked regretfully, “Is there any chance you can run in that outfit?”

  She glanced down in surprise. “Sure. I could do a marathon in this if I had to. Although I’d tear my feet up. I haven’t conditioned them for long distances barefoot.”

  “How ’bout a couple miles on a sandy beach?”

  She shrugged. “No problem.”

  “Let’s go, then.” He took off running and Kat followed suit. “You set the pace,” he told her.

  “How big a crisis is this?” she asked, breathing deeply but easily.

  “Don’t kill yourself, but we need to get there with dispatch.”

  “Six-minute mile okay, or do you need faster? I can do one four-thirty mile in a pinch. Although on sand…maybe five minutes would be my best time.”

  He stared in shock.

  She loped along beside him as easily and lightly as a gazelle. “I run marathons in my spare time.”

  He just shook his head. “You’re one of a kind.”

  “Actually not. One of the women on our team is a triathlete. Now she’s tough to keep up with.”

  Jeez. They were all superhuman. Scary.

  They settled into a hard but steady run down the beach. He tried not to notice how her silk dress fluttered back against her body, outlining it in glorious, flowing detail. She was as graceful in motion as she looked standing still. He immensely enjoyed the pounding surf, the cool night air rushing in and out of his lungs, the wet sand giving gently beneath his feet and the unison he and Kat fell into, side by side, step for step with one another.

  After a good two miles at the killer pace, Kat glanced over at him. “How much farther?” she asked.

  “Why? You winded?”

  She chuckled. “Not at all. Just curious. Actually, I’m just getting warmed up.”

  He was more than “just warming up,” but he could certainly hold this pace for a good long while. “We’re almost there. Emergency entrance to the H.O.T. Watch. Highly classified. I’
ll have to kill you if you tell anyone about it.”

  She nodded, smiling, and kept running. At least she had the grace to be working hard enough beside him to avoid chatty conversation. But damn, she was in good shape. He’d never met another female who could keep up with him in a full-out run like this.

  They rounded a point, and Pirate’s Cove arced away before them. The low, ramshackle shape of Pirate Pete’s Delivery Service came into view. The courier business was a cover for the H.O.T. Watch’s more visible operations on the island, like airplanes and helicopters coming and going and deliveries and departures of large, unmarked crates.

  “Over there.” He directed her to Pirate Pete’s and they stopped under the porch’s shadowed overhang. As he dug keys out of his pocket, he commented, “This is the part where you breathe hard after that run and make me feel macho.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She commenced panting loudly.

  He inserted a specially coded magnetic key in the lock and glanced up at her, grinning. “Take it easy on that heavy breathing or the guys on the other end of the surveillance cameras are gonna wonder what we’re up to out here.”

  She glanced around sharply. “I didn’t see any cameras—”

  “They wouldn’t be hidden if you could see them. But trust me. They’re here.”

  The sound of voices erupted behind them and he spun to face this new threat. A group of a half-dozen tourists had staggered onto the beach. The three young couples looked drunk off their asses. Their raucous laughter drowned out the ocean behind them.

  “Hey!” one of them called out. “There’s some locals. Watch how frien’ly they arrre…” he slurred, weaving purposefully in their direction.

  Jeff cursed under his breath. The last thing they needed was to get tangled up with a bunch of drunk kids. He needed an instant distraction. Something that would drive off the intruders—or give him an excuse to drive them off.

  He turned to Kat and swept her up in his arms. She went tense, prepared to do him bodily harm.

  “Roll with me on this and don’t kill me,” he muttered. And then he leaned down to plaster his mouth against hers.

  She gasped as their lips touched…but then, so did he.

  If he’d thought Cupid’s Bolt had slammed into him like a brick before, this time it bowled him over like a rushing freight train. She was exactly right for him. Perfect. A sense of destiny washed over him. This was the woman he was meant for. He sucked in another surprised breath, and then inhaled her. She tasted like berries, tart and fresh and sweet all at once, and suddenly he was starving.

  Her body hummed, as tense as a bow against his, and then all at once she gave way, melting into him, pressing into him as if a wave of need shoved her against him whether she willed it or no. Her hands clutched his shoulders for balance, and his arms tightened around her convulsively.

  She sucked hard at his lower lip, pulling him down to her, seeking his tongue and finding it with hers. Her hands crept up to the back of his head while his crept down to her buttocks. They both used their not inconsiderable strength to draw closer to one another. Good didn’t even begin to describe how she felt against him. Delicious, succulent, opulent images raced through his brain, and none were adequate to describe her or the cravings she evoked in him.

  He backed her up against the wall and she wriggled in his arms, straining toward him as hard as he strained toward her, wild in her need. He drank in her desire, as greedy for her as she was for him. Avidly, he absorbed her essence, learning the delicate but iron-strong feel of her, savoring the faint floral scent that seemed to hang around her, touching her satin hair and the softer satin of her skin.

  “Hoo, baby! Look’ee at ’em goin’ at it! You go, guy!”

  Jeff lurched as he abruptly remembered the drunks behind them. He tore his mouth away from hers to glare over his shoulder. “Can’t you see we’re busy? Go find your own dark corner to neck in. This one’s occupied.”

  “Well, daa-amn, I guess so, dude. Youze two’s throwin’ sparks all the way to Miami. Git out the fire extinguisher, Roscoe!” one of the drunks caterwauled back.

  He continued to glare at them steadily, letting overt threat infuse his body language. In his experience, it took strong signals and a few extra seconds for drunks to perceive peril. He held his pose, a promise of violence glinting dangerously in his gaze.

  Finally, sluggishly, the group registered the menace he posed. One of the girls grabbed a guy by the arm. “C’mon,” she whined. “I wanna swim in the ocean.”

  Another girl piped up. “I wanna skinny-dip. First guy there gets to take off my bra.”

  With a whoop, the young men took off running, tripping and stumbling in the sand, the girls trailing behind. Their laughter faded into the roar of the waves. Jeff watched until they disappeared around the point, and then he turned back to Kat.

  “Now, where were we?” he murmured.

  “What’s happening?” Kat whispered. “What is this between us?”

  “This, my dear, is grandmama’s bolt. Hits ya kinda hard, doesn’t it?”

  “Like lightning,” she grumbled.

  He laughed quietly. “Nothing to do for it but to sit back and enjoy the ride.” He pushed a lock of sable hair out of her eyes. “Who’d have guessed you’d be the one? Never in a million years did I expect you.”

  She tensed in his arms. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Not a blessed thing. You’re perfect.” He leaned down to show her how perfect she was, this time kissing her gently, letting his lips slide across hers, letting their tongues play lightly, sipping sweetly at each other. The pounding lust of a minute ago was less hurried now, still driving spikes of need deep into his gut, but with quiet assurance that time to explore this thing between them was near at hand.

  “I’ve never…” She hesitated.

  He prompted, murmuring against her lips, “Never what?”

  “Never…felt like this before. What are you doing to me?”

  “This is commonly referred to as kissing. Or necking, or canoodling, if you want to be old-fashioned. It’s when a boy and a girl mash mouths together and swap spit while fantasizing about doing much messier and more intimate things with each other.”

  She laughed, a breathy wisp of humor that shot straight to his groin. “Thanks. I got that part. How is it that of all the guys I’ve ever kissed, you make me feel like this? I mean, like you said, a kiss is just mashing mouths and trading saliva.”

  He jerked back far enough to look down at her. “How many guys are we talking about, here?”

  She blinked up at him, startled. A slow smile spread across her face. “Enough to know you’re the best kisser I’ve ever gone out with.”

  “Honey, I’m the last kisser you’re ever going out with.”

  Skepticism shone in her gaze, but he ignored it. “So, you like kissing me? I like kissing you, too. You taste like blueberries.”

  “Blueberries?”

  He nodded, dropping light kisses across her neck to her cheek and back to her mouth. “You never know when you bite into a blueberry if it’s going to be sweet or sour, but it tastes uniquely like blueberry either way. When I touch you, I don’t know if you’re going to toss me on my butt or kiss me till my hair catches fire, but I know I’m gonna love it either way.”

  That garnered several owl blinks out of her. “You like me tossing you?”

  “Actually, it hurts. A lot. But I love the fact that the woman I’m going to marry can plant me on my butt now and then. Not that you’ll ever need to. I’m going to spoil you so bad you’ll never need to lift a finger.”

  “M-marry?”

  As he closed the inches between them for another lingering kiss, he murmured, “Mmm-hmm. It’s fate, darlin’. Cupid’s Bolt always strikes true….”

  And then all thought of bolts went right out of his head as Kat kissed him back. They might just have enjoyed a gourmet meal, but darned if she didn’t make him hungrier than a bear in the spring. He wanted more o
f her. A lot more.

  Both of them were breathing hard when Kat slid right, holding his hands, to draw him away from the porch.

  “Ow!”

  His senses went on to instant alert. Who or what had hurt her? “What’s wrong?” he replied quickly.

  “I banged into something sharp…” She turned in his embrace to examine the wall. “It’s this knob.”

  Knob—oh, Christ. The H.O.T. Watch intercom. The summons to the bunker. They’d been standing out here trading lungs, and the folks downstairs were waiting for them.

  A horrifying thought popped into his head. Had they been pressing on the intercom button all this time? Transmitting their steamy kiss to an audience below? He closed his eyes in despair. “Did you just bang into the button now, or have you been leaning on it?” he asked reluctantly.

  “I just hit it.”

  Thank God. He didn’t need Kat taking endless ribbing from his guys. They wouldn’t bug him too much because he’d take them out on the practice floor and break them in half. Although, now that he thought about it, Kat might do the very same thing to them.

  “Ready to face the lions in their den?” he sighed.

  A pause. “Oh, yeah—work.”

  He swung open the concealed panel beside the front door to reveal a palm telemetry reader. He laid his hand on the pliable gel surface, which squished up between his fingers slightly. A click in the door lock indicated he’d been recognized. He turned the knob and stepped inside.

  “Thanks,” he commented to the dark interior of the store, or more precisely, to whatever duty controller downstairs at the other end of the security cameras had let them in. “This way,” he said, leading Kat quickly toward the storeroom behind the counter.

  A loud voice erupted without warning from the large birdcage in the corner. “Baawk! Pirate Pete is a dirty old bird. Repeats everything that he’s heard. Especially the bits about asses and tits—”