by Elle Casey
Obviously I’ve insulted her by basically telling her I admire her. How’s that for screwed up?
“Maybe I want to be more like you,” I say, experimenting with the truth. “Maybe I want to be tougher, more self-reliant.”
She searches my face, maybe looking for evidence that I’m not yanking her chain. She’s obviously conflicted. I’ve paid her a pretty high compliment, but will it be enough to break through her anger at me? I’m starting to think I know where her emotion might be coming from.
“We’re too different,” she finally says.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I ease some of my weight off the chair. “I’m new to the team, but I care about everyone here. I respect all of you a lot. I know how hard you work, how loyal you are to each other. I know you all want to make Ozzie proud and that he’s a great boss. I know until I got here, you were the only woman on the team, and now things are going to change with two women being here.”
When she looks away, I know I’ve figured it out. Or at least I’ve come close.
“But it doesn’t have to take anything away from you. From your accomplishments. From your skills.”
“You fly the Parrot better than I do,” she whispers. Tears gather in the corner of her eyes. I can tell it makes her angry to show that small weakness. Her expression becomes mutinous again.
“So? You kick ass better than I do.” I try to smile, but she glares at me anyway.
“Says the girl sitting on me with a chair. You tied me up with my own headphones, May.”
“You called me ‘May.’” I reach down and poke her on the nose. She’s so cute when she’s mad. It makes me happy that she left that Bo Peep stuff behind.
“Slip of the tongue.” She’s trying to hold on to her anger, but I’m not going to let her.
“How about if we make a deal?” I propose.
“What deal?”
“I promise to show you how to fly that stupid thing, and you give me a chance to prove myself worthy of your respect.”
She looks anywhere but at me. A tear slips out of her right eye and travels down into her hair.
“I don’t need another friend,” she finally says. Her eyes move to meet mine, and she’s glaring again.
“I’m not asking for your friendship. I’m asking for your respect.” It makes me sad to say that, but it’s true. If she doesn’t want to be my friend, I can’t force her to. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so clearly rejected, though. I wasn’t kidding before; it hurts.
“Earn it and you’ll have it,” she says, letting out a long hiss of air after.
“Just give me one chance.”
“Done. Now let me up.”
The devil takes control of my mouth again. “Not until you say uncle.”
She glares, but I just keep on grinning.
Her voice comes out low and threatening. “If you ever tell anyone I said uncle, I will stab you while you sleep.”
I laugh. “Say it, or Ozzie’s going to be serving you dinner under this chair.”
Her teeth grind together for a few seconds before she finally speaks. “Uncle. Now get the hell off me.”
I push off the chair and stand back, waiting for the angry mess of a non-friend to get up and attempt to kill me.
But she doesn’t do anything to me. She just gets up, rights the chairs, and untangles her headphones from her wrists. When she’s done, she sits down, puts the equipment on, and starts the recording again.
I cautiously take my seat and press the button on the video, watching her out of the corner of my eye as I get back to work. The ninja sneak attack that I’m expecting for the next three hours never comes.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Are you ready?” Dev asks, coming across the warehouse and rubbing his hands together.
I put my hand in my purse and wrap my fingers around the Taser inside. “Ready for what?”
“Car shopping.” He looks confused. “Isn’t that what we’re going to do now?”
I pull my hand out of my purse. “Yeah, sure, of course. What did you think I was talking about?”
He points at me and winks. “Mental games. Good. I like your style.”
I roll my eyes as we walk over to his car. “I don’t have a style.”
“Oh, yes you do, Bo Peep. Trust me on this.” He’s chuckling as he folds his frame into the big old car.
I get in next to him and cringe at how heavy the door is. That circuit workout killed me. I’m going to be sore on top of my already sore spots. At this point, it feels like I’m never going to recover. Everything . . . every muscle, every bone, every cell in my body hurts.
He reverses out of the warehouse, and I think about what he said, what Toni said, and how everyone seems to act when I’m around. Even Ozzie.
“You guys keep calling me Bo Peep, and I have to tell you, it really doesn’t feel like much of a compliment.”
Dev turns the wheel by spinning it around and around on the heel of his hand. It takes about five revolutions to turn the car just ninety degrees.
“It is a compliment. Or maybe it’s more just an observation of a really good cover.”
“What do you mean?”
He purses his lips. “Hmmm, how to put this in a way you’d appreciate . . .”
“You don’t have to worry about offending me,” I say. “Toni’s already gone there.”
“No, I’m just trying to come up with a way to show you . . . I know.” He points into the air. “What do you think about when you see Ozzie?” He glances at me, waiting for my response.
My eyes bug out of my head. Is this a trick question? An opener for a conversation about how I slept with the boss? Ack!
“What do you mean?” I feign a casualness I do not feel.
“He’s standing there in his shirt and jeans, boots, haircut in that military style . . . what comes to mind when you see that?”
Okay, so I can’t say total hotness in this situation, even though it’s the truth. Dev is trying to lead me somewhere else. “Umm, commando?” My face starts burning. “I mean, military guy, not . . . no underwear guy.”
Dev laughs. “Excellent.” He glances at me and smiles before putting his eyes back on the road. “Exactly. That’s what everyone sees when they look at him. He sticks out like a sore thumb. He looks threatening, like someone you should keep an eye on. He cannot walk into a situation and be invisible. It’s just impossible.”
I look at Dev’s lanky legs. “Probably hard for you too, huh?”
“Exxxxactly. He’s a sore thumb and I’m a sore arm. No way can I go anywhere undercover. I’m only good for when bodies need to be brought places in trunks or for driving a getaway car. And every once in a while to provide a distraction.”
“And you’re saying I can go undercover?”
He laughs. “Hell, yeah, you can.”
I sigh in defeat. “Are you saying I look like a minivan mom who has nothing going on?”
He frowns. “Uhhh, no. Not exactly.”
I look out the window, trying not to be hurt by that. I know being a mom is a greater calling than being a badass, but that doesn’t mean I want to be there anytime soon.
“What I meant was that you can blend. If you want to be a minivan mom, you can be one, with the right hairstyle and clothing. But if you want to be a femme fatale, you could be that too.”
I look over to see if he’s messing with me, but he appears serious.
He continues. “Some leather pants, high heels, different hair . . . easy. Done. And yet, still, no one would see you as a threat.”
“Because I’m a woman?”
“Because you have a disarming nature about you.” He smiles and reaches over to pat my arm. “Don’t sound so sad about it. It’s a huge asset in our business.”
I shrug, slightly mollified. “I guess being an asset isn’t so horrible.”
“No, trust me . . . being an asset is everything. Ozzie’s only cover with this group was the Harley thing. Too many people ge
t around in this town to try going out again too soon. He’s out of the game now, for a long time. And I was never in. We just had Thibault, Toni, and Lucky before. Now we have you too.”
A little fear trickles into my stomach. “For going undercover?”
He shrugs. “More for just being around and not being obvious about it.” Dev drives out toward the main road that will bring us to the area of town known for having lots of car dealerships all grouped together.
I nod. “Okay. I guess I can accept that.”
“The minivan is great because you can haul all the surveillance equipment around in it, the dogs, and of course, if we need someone to blend, nothing blends better than a chick in a mom van.”
I sigh loudly. “Aaand now we’re back to me being the doggie sitter and the soccer mom.”
He laughs but doesn’t reply.
After a few minutes pass in silence, I realize that this is the best time for me to pry information from an unsuspecting victim. He’s trapped in this car with me for at least another fifteen minutes.
“So . . . what’s the deal with Toni, anyway?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” He rests his wrist on the top of the steering wheel. The other arm is on the open windowsill.
“Is she in love with Ozzie? Why is she so against me being around?”
“Ozzie?” He snorts. “Hardly. He’s not her type.”
I frown. “That’s what she said, but . . .”
I can see him glancing over at me out of the corner of my eye.
“What?” I ask.
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” I hate when everyone else is in on a secret and I’m not.
“Why Ozzie isn’t her type.”
Then it hits me. “Oh. Is she . . . is she a . . . ummm . . .” I can’t say it. I feel really stupid now.
“A what?” He’s obviously enjoying my discomfort.
The words barely come out. I feel like such a prude. “A lesbian?”
He laughs. Really hard and really loud.
“What?” I’m embarrassed now.
“That was hard for you, I can tell.”
“Shut up.” I stare out the side window, my face flaming. “I’ll have you know I know plenty of gay people. I have several friends who are gay.”
“Sure you do.”
“I do.” I glare at him. How does he know I have exactly one gay friend? Has he been spying on me?
“Well, that’s nice, but Toni’s not a lesbian. Not as far as I know, anyway.”
I hit him in the side. “Why’d you make me say that if she’s not a lesbian then, you idiot?”
He’s still laughing as he holds his ribs where I jabbed him. When he finishes he sighs with pleasure. “Oh, man, that was awesome.” He glances over at me. “I just like seeing you squirm.”
“You’re a weirdo.” I’m kind of smiling but trying to stop.
He waits until he’s done laughing before he tries to speak again. “She’s got a past. Ozzie’s helping her through that. Regardless, she wouldn’t go for a guy like him in a million years.”
“A past? What kind of past?”
“I’m not sure she’d want me sharing it. But you could ask her.” He sounds way too happy about that idea.
“And get my butt handed to me on a platter? No thanks.”
“Word on the street is you can handle it.” There’s an air of mystery surrounding his tone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, a little bird told me there might have been some hog-tying going on this morning during the data-mining session.”
I feel sick to my stomach. “What? Who told you that?”
He snickers. “Not Toni, I’ll tell you that much.”
“So someone was watching us this morning? How rude.”
“Hey, you make a ruckus, and people are going to come investigate.” He shrugs.
I drop my face into my hands and leave it there. “Oh my god, Toni’s going to kill me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Toni. Just make sure you always have a pair of headphones on you, and you’ll be fine.”
My mind goes around and around that incident as Dev continues to drive. Now what the hell am I going to do? She’ll never forgive me for trapping her under that chair if she knows the team saw it happen.
Dev pats me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. No one’s going to say a word to her.”
“She’ll hate me forever.” I lift my face from my hands. “I’m already on the poo list with her.”
“Don’t worry. Just keep working hard, and she’ll come around.”
I snort. “Yeah, right.”
“She’s tough, but she’s not stupid. She’ll see you’re a good addition to the team, and she’ll lighten up.”
“What makes you so sure I’m that? A good addition?”
“You got the drop on me twice. On Toni once. No one’s ever gotten you yet.” He shrugs. “And like I said before, you have the perfect cover. You’re a chameleon.”
My words come out mumbled. “I prefer that nickname to stupid Bo Peep.”
He laughs, chuckling all the way into the used car lot with ten minivans parked right up in front.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Two hours later, after browsing, test-driving, and dickering over prices, I pull into the warehouse in my gently used work vehicle: a gold Toyota Sienna. Ugh. I hate this thing. I feel instantly ten years older when I’m sitting behind the wheel. I should probably go trade Felix in for a golden retriever and round out the look.
When I see him racing across the warehouse toward me, so excited he’s curved in the shape of a comma, I decide that’s a stupid idea. Felix is my little man. Maybe I can get him a little doggie seat to strap into the back. If I’m going to look like a soccer mom, I might as well have a baby seat too, right?
Ozzie comes down the stairs and shuts the driver-side door for me as I bend down to get Felix into my arms. I revel in the happy puppy love for a few seconds, using it to calm my racing heart. Ozzie is trying not to smile at my arrival—I know he is. His face is twitching.
“I like your new ride,” he says.
“I hate it.”
When I catch the look on his face, I hurry to amend my statement. “I mean, I don’t hate it. I just don’t like it.” Wow. The guy gives me a company car, and I tell him to suck it. Nice.
He raises an eyebrow at me.
I sigh. “I hate looking like a soccer mom when I’m not a soccer mom. I never pictured myself as that person, I guess.” The pout that comes out is not faked.
He pats me on the back and takes Felix from me, playing with his tiny ears as the mutt tries to lick him to death. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it. My heart calms and starts to go all gooey. He’s forgiven for making me drive a minivan.
“It’s just a work vehicle. If you don’t want to drive it after hours, that’s up to you. But I’d rather you stuck with the van for now, just until we’re sure it’s all clear at your place.”
Dev climbs out of his car and walks over. “You up for the training session, Bo Peep?”
“I guess. I just need to walk Felix first.” I reach for the dog, ignoring the thought that driving my red car might be dangerous. I don’t want to believe that.
“Already done,” Ozzie says, turning so I can’t take him. “Go on with the training. I’ll join you guys in a few.”
I move slowly over to the area where Dev has mats on the floor as Ozzie walks away and puts Felix down by his girlfriend. The two canines trot off to another part of the warehouse, leaving us humans behind.
My body is in full protest over the activity my brain imagines Dev and I are about to engage in. Enough is enough, it’s telling me. No more fighting for today. But Ozzie’s watching, so I can’t wuss out. Besides, if I ever want Toni to trust me and stop being a pain in the butt where I’m concerned, I have to do this. I have to do whatever she would do in my situation, and I’m pretty sure Toni
would fight until she was collapsing with exhaustion.
Dev picks up some arm pads. “Put these on.”
I’m grateful for the protection. “What about you?” He’s just standing there doing nothing.
“I don’t need them.”
I snort. We’ll see about that.
He turns to a table behind him and takes two singlesticks from the top of it, handing one to me.
“Okay, so first thing you need to know is you hold it here, on this end, behind the leather hilt.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, as if I couldn’t figure that one out for myself.”
“You’re a lefty? Okay, fine. Put your right hand behind you. Rest it on your lower back.”
I copy his moves, feeling more vulnerable with just one arm out.
“Why like this?” I ask.
“Helps you build your muscles used for balance, and it keeps your other arm from being broken with the stick.”
“Oh.” Broken? Is he crazy? “I think I’m going to just stop asking questions from now on.”
“Scared?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.
I lift my chin. “No. Are you?” I jab at him with my stick a couple times. Even to my unpracticed eye, it looks less than smooth.
He laughs. “Hardly.”
I hold the stick up in front of my face.
“Move your hand up farther. You want some stick exposed at the end so you can use it to butt into someone who gets too close.”
“I thought I was going to whack someone who gets too close with the long end.”
“It’s not always that easy,” he says wryly.
I move my hand up the stick a bit.
“Don’t hold it too tight. Your hand will cramp.”
“Okay, not too tight.” The stupid thing sags in my hand.
“Tighter than that, though. Just enough that you can hold it steady. Too tight and you’re going to telegraph your moves to me, and you don’t want to do that.”
“No, definitely not.”
“Okay, first rule: Keep your stick moving.” His starts swaying around his face, his shoulders, and then his lower body.
My moves are decidedly less graceful. “Why?”
“Because. It’s better. You don’t want to be caught off guard. Plus your strikes can come faster.” He moves his feet a little. “Keep that body moving too. I don’t want you falling asleep on me.” He reaches out and smacks my stick hard enough to almost knock it out of my hand.
