by CW Browning
“You just got into the country?” she asked.
“This morning,” Hawk told her.
“Does Charlie know you're here?”
“Not unless he has a tracking device on me.”
Alina studied him for a moment. He looked exhausted, but he also had something in his eyes, a watchful glint that made her pause. It was a look she knew well. She saw it many times in her own reflection. Capping her water bottle thoughtfully, she set it on the island in the middle of the kitchen and turned to hit the power button on her espresso machine.
“How long are you staying?” Alina asked, turning to face him.
She leaned on the counter, watching him from under dark lashes, while she waited for the semi-automatic espresso machine to warm up. Damon met her gaze steadily, his face giving nothing away.
“That depends on you,” he replied softly.
Alina's heart fluttered and her breath caught in her throat. Her lips curved slowly as her brown eyes met his blue ones.
“That doesn't sound like a very solid plan,” she murmured.
Laughter leapt into his eyes and he grinned.
“It's more solid than you think,” he retorted with a wink.
Alina grinned reluctantly and turned to the coffeemaker again, pulling a mug out of the cabinet and setting it under the spout. The bean grinder came to life as she pressed the button to brew eight ounces of strong espresso.
“I heard about an insane raid on a Taliban camp a few days ago,” Hawk said loudly over the noise, changing the subject.
He hadn't missed the flash of uncertainty in her eyes, and he was too accomplished a hunter to startle his prey. He would give her time to adjust to him again. They had a lot to work out between them, and Damon wasn't about to scare her away.
“Oh?” Alina glanced over her shoulder. She encountered sparkling blue eyes that were penetrating even as they held a glint of amusement.
“Yes.” Hawk's voice lowered as the grinder stopped and coffee started to brew into the mug. “The story I heard was that it all happened so fast it took the camp by surprise. Several Taliban were killed, and those left alive were badly wounded.”
“Imagine that.” Alina pulled the mug out from under the spout and walked over to set it in front of him. “Was it a SEAL or DELTA team?”
Damon pulled the mug of steaming coffee towards him, a laugh lurking about his mouth.
“Neither,” he replied. “I heard it was a ghost.”
Alina laughed and grabbed her water bottle from the island. She came around the bar to settle onto the stool next to him. As she passed him, she caught a whiff of spiced musk and fresh woods. It was a scent she would always associate with Hawk, and a feeling of contentment washed over her. Sipping her water, she shrugged the emotion aside with a slight frown.
“I don't believe in ghosts,” she told him.
Damon winked at her and sipped his coffee.
“Neither do I, but they say this 'ghost' blew into the camp at night while half of them were away attacking a military convoy several kilometers away,” he continued. Alina lowered her water and encountered another sharp look from dark blue eyes. “This is where it gets good. While they were attacking the convoy away from camp, this ghost came in and picked off the ones who stayed behind one by one. The few left alive never even saw him.”
“Therefore, it had to be a ghost,” Alina murmured, her lips twitching. “Just one person did this?”
“That's the story.” Hawk set down his mug and turned his head to look at her. “He went in, picked off half the camp and made it to the center of the compound, where he rescued a high-profile prisoner from a pit in the ground.”
“Good Lord, it sounds like a good, old-fashioned Stallone movie,” Alina exclaimed, drawing a laugh from Damon.
“That's not all,” he told her.
“Of course not.”
“While Rambo was doing all this, the other half of the camp attacking the convoy walked into an ambush,” Hawk said. “They were captured and taken by NATO forces. One of the captured has been on our Most Wanted list for three years.”
“This ghost appears to have had extremely good information,” Alina decided. “When did you hear all this?”
“Last night, on my way out of Tel Aviv.” Hawk sipped his coffee again. “My source says everyone is buzzing about it.”
“Buzzing about a ghost?” Alina scoffed, setting her bottle down. “Sounds like a fairy tale to me. You would have to be completely insane to even attempt something like that as a single person. Even the SEAL teams aren't dumb enough to try something that dangerous!”
“Hey, watch what you say about my brothers,” Hawk warned her without heat and Alina winked at him. “But you're right. Someone would have to be completely insane to even attempt it.”
They were silent for a moment, Hawk sipping his coffee and Viper staring thoughtfully across the kitchen. The silence lengthened and Damon glanced at her, his eyes glinting. She turned her head and her eyes met his, unreadable. After a moment, he smiled reluctantly.
“Whoever this ghost was, they certainly had speed and luck on their side.”
“And a good plan,” Viper answered calmly. “Never underestimate the power of a good plan.”
“Oh, I don't,” Damon murmured.
Alina grinned.
“And speaking of plans, what's yours?” she asked.
“Besides you?” Damon grinned at the sudden surge of color in her cheeks. “My immediate plan is to sleep.”
“You look like you need it,” Alina informed him, wishing her heart wasn't thumping so hard. “And if you're coming from Tel Aviv, you deserve it. That corner of the world isn't exactly restful.”
“Mmm.”
“Were you just passing through?” Alina asked, glancing at him.
Damon met her glance with a laugh.
“Viper, are you fishing for information?” he demanded.
“Maybe,” she admitted, grinning sheepishly.
“You can do better than that,” Damon murmured.
“Oh, I will,” she promised.
Damon finished his coffee and set the empty mug down. He looked at her, drinking in the sight of her with a slight smile. A deep cut on her jawline, close to her ear, was healing and he reached out to trace the thick scab gently.
“It's good to see you,” he said softly.
Alina's heart thumped heavily in her chest and she locked onto his dark blue eyes, drowning.
“It's good to see you too,” she answered just as softly.
Damon smiled and stood up, his hand falling away from her face.
“Thank you for the coffee.”
“Anytime,” she replied, standing up and walking with him to the sliding doors. “Where are you staying?”
“Not far.” Damon slid open the door and stepped out into the night. “I'm sure you'll find it.”
“Of course,” Alina said with a laugh, joining him on the deck.
They stood at the banister, gazing over the dark lawn. The house was buried in the outer reaches of Medford on sixteen acres of land, surrounded by thick woods. Alina breathed in deeply and sighed contentedly. The air was crisp with the scent of fall, and leaves covered the grass in the darkness. A cool breeze blew across the lawn, rustling through them in the darkness as an owl hooted in the trees. Moonlight filtered through the branches, casting silver shadows over the yard. The night was peaceful and another feeling of contentment washed over her.
“I hear you've been making friends in high places in London,” Hawk said suddenly, glancing down at her.
Alina looked at him in surprise.
“You've been hearing quite a bit,” she murmured.
He grinned, turning to face her.
“Only bits and pieces,” he assured her. His smile faded and he reached out to rest his hand on the side of her face. “Be careful there. The higher they are, the less they can be trusted,” he said softly.
“Oh, I'm well aware of that,” Alina r
eplied, smiling faintly.
Damon stared down at her for a moment before nodding. He lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. Alina ignored the sharp stab of disappointment as his hand dropped away from her face and he stepped back.
“I'll catch up with you tomorrow,” he murmured.
Alina nodded and he turned to leave. Suddenly, a whoooosh came out of the darkness and a large, black bird swooped out of nowhere. It skimmed over Hawk's shoulder, the tips of its talons inches above his jacket. He ducked with a startled curse and Alina laughed as the hawk came to rest on the banister beside her.
“For the love of...” Hawk glared at her. “Can't you stop him from doing that?!”
“He's just saying hello,” Alina retorted, still chuckling.
She reached out her hand to the black hawk and Damon straightened up, watching as the hawk tilted its head to the side and allowed her to stroke its neck with her finger. It made a low sound suspiciously like a purr, and Damon realized it was cooing with pleasure. He shook his head slightly.
“I swear that bird has a twisted sense of humor,” he muttered.
Alina's eyes glinted in the darkness.
“He likes you,” she retorted. “If he didn't, you wouldn't have any eyes left.”
“Well, that's comforting,” Damon said, turning to head down the steps of the deck. “I'll try to remember that next time I see claws and a beak coming at me from nowhere.”
Alina's laughter followed him to the motorcycle parked in the driveway.
Stephanie pulled her hair into a pony-tail and leaned over the sink to splash water onto her face. She was exhausted. Angela had dropped her off after a few drinks and Stephanie went straight upstairs to get ready for bed. It had been a long week at work and all she really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. Tomorrow was Saturday, thank God, and she had every intention of sleeping in as long as she could. Switching off the faucet, she grabbed a towel to pat her face dry. The only reason she had even gone tonight was because she promised Angela weeks ago. Otherwise, she would have spent the evening happily in bed with a book.
Stephanie dropped the hand-towel back onto its rack on the wall and turned to leave the bathroom, flipping off the light as she went. At the bar, Angela had been filled with speculation about why Damon had come back to Jersey. She spent two drinks rattling on and on about the unresolved sexual tension between him and Alina. Stephanie frowned now as she headed across her bedroom toward the bed. She didn't know anything about unresolved sexual tension, but she did know when Damon showed up, trouble was never far behind. He could deny it all he wanted, but she wouldn't be comfortable until he had been in town for at least a week without anything unusual happening.
Getting into bed, she reached for the book on her bedside table. She settled against the pillows and opened it, but found herself staring blindly at the pages. The first time she met Damon, she had become embroiled with a terrorist and an assassin. The second time she saw him, Alina was being hunted by her own government, and Stephanie and John were hiding in a safe house, their own lives in danger. Now, here he was again.
She lifted her eyes and stared at the wall across the room. Damon claimed he was just here to see Alina, and Stephanie hadn't missed the blush that stained Alina's cheeks under the street light. Alina hadn't been expecting Damon, that much was clear. Perhaps Angela was right. Perhaps he had come back just to see Alina. Perhaps it was just unresolved sexual tension. Damon had certainly been protective of Alina the last time she saw him, two months ago in a clearing in Virginia. He had been hovering over her like an avenging angel. At the time, Stephanie was struck with the thought that he was acting more like a lover than a business associate.
She sighed and turned her attention back to her book. Angela was probably right. He was probably just in town to see Alina. She lived in Jersey now. He would have to come here to see her. It would be silly for her to get suspicious each time he showed up, especially if Angela was right. If Angela's “senses” were accurate, they would be seeing a lot of Damon.
Stephanie was just focusing on the pages in front of her, setting Damon and Alina out of her mind, when her cell phone started vibrating on the bedside table. She sighed when her partner's ringtone started playing.
“I'm in bed,” she answered the phone without preamble.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Her partner, John Smithe, was a teenager trapped in an FBI agent's body. There was a short silence and she pictured him trying not to laugh.
“Is that an invitation?” he finally asked.
“Not even close,” Stephanie retorted. “What do you want?”
“I have information on Rodrigo,” John told her.
Stephanie's eyes lifted from her book again, narrowing sharply. Rodrigo Frietas was an informant who had suddenly disappeared four days ago. He came to the FBI a few weeks before, claiming to have information about a cyber-terrorist hacking ring Stephanie and John were investigating. At the time, he offered information in exchange for protection. Stephanie interviewed him once last week. After reviewing his information, they set up another meeting, but he didn't show. All attempts to find him had failed. Rodrigo had simply vanished.
“Tell me.”
“Remember Marcy? She works with Angela at the bank?” John asked.
Stephanie heard the sound of his car door creaking open and then slamming shut.
“Blonde bimbo, sure,” she said with a grimace.
“You say that like it's a bad thing,” John murmured. “I'm not sure why you hate her so much.”
“I don't hate her,” Stephanie replied. “I just think she should show less nipple.”
John burst out laughing.
“Personally, I'm okay with the amount of...”
“What about her, John?” Stephanie cut him off.
“I just finished having dinner with her,” John said.
Stephanie glanced at the clock with a raised eyebrow. It was just after one in the morning.
“Late dinner,” she muttered.
“Dessert ran later than expected,” John retorted.
“Of course it did.”
Stephanie wrinkled her nose, trying to ignore the stab of irritation slicing through her. It was none of her business what John did when he was out of work, or with whom.
“Do you want to hear this or not?” John demanded, amusement in his voice.
“Do I have a choice?”
“She knew Rodrigo,” John told her triumphantly and Stephanie was left speechless for a moment. “They hung out a few times for happy hour.”
“How did you find this out?” Stephanie finally found her voice. “You didn't tell her...”
“Of course not!” John started his car and Stephanie heard the growl of the old Firebird's engine through the phone. “I have skills, partner, that you haven't seen.”
“Ha!” Stephanie grinned. “I'll keep that in mind. Tell me what you found out.”
“Hold on,” John said, his voice becoming muffled. There was a short silence and then a click as he switched to his Bluetooth. “You there?”
“Still here.”
“So, the last time she saw Rodrigo was Monday night,” John told her. “A bunch of them went to happy hour after work. She says he was quiet, but she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. No one's seen him since and she was surprised when she heard the FBI was looking for him.”
“Did you tell her you were one of the agents looking for him?” Stephanie asked.
“No. Marcy has no idea what I do, only that I'm a friend of Angela's.”
“Hmm, somehow I don't think Angela would quite term it that way,” Stephanie murmured. Angela harbored an obvious disdain for John that she made no attempt to hide from him. John chuckled.
“Angela is warming up to me,” he retorted.
“If you say so,” Stephanie said doubtfully.
“Do you want to hear the rest of this or what?” John asked.
�
�Yes.”
“Rodrigo left their group at the bar when another friend of his showed up. They went off to a table together,” John continued. “Marcy only noticed because the other man looked so familiar.”
“She knew him?” Stephanie demanded.
“She did indeed.” John's voice held a thread of excitement and Stephanie knew he had stumbled upon something good. “She met him at a banquet not long ago. Guess where he works?”
“Another bank.”
“Bingo,” John said. “He works in the IT department of New Federal Bank. His name is Phillip Chou.”
“John, if you were here I would kiss you,” Stephanie announced, her lips curving into a huge grin. “I take back everything I've ever said about your philandering.”
“I told you it would come in handy someday,” John said with a laugh. “I'm going to the office first thing in the morning to look up Mr. Chou. It looks like Rodrigo may have been part of that hacking ring after all.”
“I never doubted it,” Stephanie replied thoughtfully. “He was too scared to be lying, and what little information he gave us was right on. The question is, where is he now? And why did he change his mind about coming forward?”
“Maybe he decided he was more afraid of us than the North Koreans he works for,” John said. “You can be intimidating, you know.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes.
“Not as intimidating as...some others,” she said, hesitating mid-sentence.
There was a sudden silence on the line and she knew John had caught the hesitation and knew exactly what she had stopped herself from saying. There was only one person they both knew who had the power to intimidate at will, and she was John's ex-fiancé. Alina had become the elephant in the room for both of them since Virginia, neither of them wanting to discuss what they had seen that night two months ago.