Maybe her desperation for getting to the hired gun had caused her to make a fatal error in judgment.
She rubbed her chin as that thought chased itself around her mind. Could she trust Steele to remain calm and collected under severe duress? That was the question to be answered.
The last thing they could afford would be an agent who couldn't pull the trigger.
Steele was dreaming of Sunday dinner at his parents' house. He could see his mother welcoming him home, see his father reaching out to shake his hand. His sister was there, home from college.
Everything was just as it'd been before his arrest...
And then he felt someone touch his arm.
Reacting on instinct borne of one too many nights spent in prison, he came awake ready to fight off whoever was disturbing him.
Joe caught his hand before it made contact with his jaw and held it in an iron grip that actually surprised him. The man was a lot stronger and quicker than he appeared.
"We're here," Joe said, releasing his arm.
Frowning, Steele straightened up to find them landed in what appeared to be the parking lot of some stadium. He pulled the headphones off. "Where are we?"
"Nashville," Joe said as he climbed out of the helicopter.
Completely baffled by this location, Steele followed him out of the copter. "Tennessee?"
Joe snorted as he pulled on a pair of sunglasses. "There's only one Nashville."
Steele looked around the attractive and unusual cityscape, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why they were here. "What the hell am I doing in Nashville? What--you want me to shoot Minnie Pearl?"
Joe gave him a droll look. "No. She's not the target. Not to mention, she's already dead."
Steele returned Joe's bad-ass tit-for-tat. "So what? Garth Brooks is a spy, or did he just piss you off? Do I get to shoot him?"
The Vietnamese-American woman gave him a dry stare. "No, but if you happen to shoot Big & Rich, I wouldn't complain. If I have to hear that stupid 'Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)' song one more time, I might shoot someone myself." She shifted her gaze meaningfully to Joe.
"I like that song," Joe said defensively.
"Yeah, I've seen the shirt," she said, her voice even drier than her expression as she led them across the parking lot. "Trust me, Joe. You're not a cowboy. The only cows you ever saw as a kid came under a plastic wrap in the grocery store or in a paper wrapper from McDonald's."
Joe made a face at her as he walked behind her.
"Do they always do that?" he asked the other woman, who strangely reminded him of Angelina Jolie. He wasn't sure why, but something about her dark looks and confidence was reminiscent of the actress. Though this woman looked like she actually enjoyed food and took in more than a lettuce leaf every three weeks.
She pulled her glasses off and tucked them in her pocket before she shifted her book to rest under her arm. "Always. You'll get used to it."
Yawning, Steele turned to look over his shoulder as Jake and Tony took off with the helicopter. Oblivious to their departure, Joe and the dark-eyed woman led them toward a small black Mercedes sedan.
"Keys," Joe said, holding his hand out to her while he and mini-Angelina waited by the back doors.
The Vietnamese woman stared at him. "You have a migraine."
He gave her a charming, almost boyish grin. "Thanks to you and Maxalt, it's gone, but if I let you drive, I know it'll come right back."
She narrowed her eyes. "I just got it painted from the last time you drove it."
Joe poked his lip out and pouted.
She made a disgusted noise. "You so much as near a curb, and I will cut"--she dropped her gaze to his groin--"it off."
He snorted as he took the keys from her. "Never hit a curb in my life."
"Beirut? Paris? Oh, and don't get me started on Madrid."
Joe made a mocking face as he unlocked the doors with the remote. "You nag like your mother."
"Don't you dare start on my mother. I'll invite her down for a visit if you do."
"Sorry," Joe said instantly. "I'll never mention her again...or your sister either."
Steele frowned at them. "Are you two married or something?"
"No," the woman said. "I know too much about him to be that stupid."
"Thank you, Tiger." Joe got into the car.
"You're welcome, Joseph," she said as she joined him.
Taking his cue, Steele got into the back at about the same time as the mini-Angelina. As soon as he had the seat belt on, he understood Tiger's trepidation about her car. Joe drove like a man with a death wish.
"Where'd you learn to drive?" Steele asked as they took a corner so fast, he swore the car was only on two wheels.
"Richard Petty's School of Driving. Had a great instructor there named Steven Norbert who showed me how to dog the shit out of an engine. Why?"
Steele shook his head, wondering if it were sarcasm or truth.
"He's joking," Tiger said. "He learned to drive from a Mafia bagman."
Joe cleared his throat. "I've told you a million times, Tiger, we don't use that term. It's fiction." He paused. "My uncle Fish was simply connected."
Tiger rolled her eyes until Joe cut too close to a slow-moving car. "Watch the bumper!"
Steele cringed, expecting a wreck, but they missed the other car by the skin of their teeth.
Luckily, they were only a few of blocks from their destination. Joe slung them into a parking garage, up the ramp, and into a parking space so fast that he swore he heard a sonic boom from the back end.
"Not a mark on it," Joe said triumphantly to Tiger as he put the car into park.
"Yeah. Wanna check the backseat, where Steele is sitting? I'll bet there's a big stain there."
"Hey, I resent that," Steele said. "I assure you, my nerves can take anything you two dish out."
Mini-Angelina laughed. "Don't be so cocky. You've no idea how mean they can be."
"Yeah," Tiger said. "Besides, I'm sure you'll be resenting a lot more comments made by me in the very near future."
"And you can take that to the bank," Joe said as he handed off the keys to Tiger.
Joe and Tiger were an odd couple, but in a weird way, he liked them. They got out of the car and headed toward the elevator to take them out of the garage. "So when do I get to learn more about my new job?"
Joe pressed the button. "In the offices, where we can't be overheard."
The women were making small talk while he and Joe said nothing.
Once they reached the peaceful, shaded street outside the garage, Steele paused as he saw the building across from them. It was...different. Made of blue glass and white concrete, it shot up probably a good six hundred plus feet from the ground. The very top of it had two slender towers that looked like something out of a science fiction movie. A bridgelike structure connecting the towers was emblazoned with the word BellSouth and a blue circle with white stars just below it.
He'd never seen anything like it...and Joe and the women were heading straight for it.
Steele made a mental note of the address: 333 Commerce Street. He hastened to catch up to them. "You work for the phone company?"
"No," Tiger said as they walked around the modern art of the north plaza. "Ma Bell owns the building, which is affectionately called the Bat Tower."
That fit it perfectly. It looked like something out of a Batman comic.
Joe glanced at him over his shoulder. "We rent space in it for our offices."
Steele nodded as they entered the posh lobby through a revolving glass door. It was rather dark inside, and overwhelmingly brown, with a lot of green plants that overflowed their containers. There was a security station to the back with a uniformed guard and a woman talking.
Joe headed left toward the elevator banks, which were almost hidden by the foliage of the lobby.
"We're an insurance agency," Joe said as he entered the elevator.
Steele laughed at the irony. "That's clever."<
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"Yeah, but it's true," Tiger said.
Steele opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, mini-Angelina elbowed him.
"Save it for the office." She indicated a corner of the ceiling, where there was probably a security camera hidden. "Remember, walls have eyes and ears."
And he'd thought the Army was bad. "You guys aren't paranoid, are you? What? You think there are trained killers in the elevator?"
Joe and the women laughed evilly as the doors opened into a small lobby area.
As soon as the doors closed behind them, Tiger turned to give him smile. "We rode up in them, didn't we?"
She had a point.
If it wasn't for the fact that they carried themselves like professionals, he might think she was kidding--but he knew better.
The small upstairs lobby they entered reminded him a bit of an Army reception area. A petite receptionist was dwarfed by a large brown workstation. Even so, he had a clear shot of her sitting there, doing computer work. She had her blond hair pulled up into a tight bun and was dressed in a thin light-blue sweater set and a pair of khaki pants.
"Hi, guys," she said as she watched them approach her. "He the new guy?"
Joe nodded. "Steele, meet Kristen Delinsky."
Kristen, who appeared unassuming and sweet, held her small hand out to him. "Nice to meet you, Steele."
He shook her hand and noticed that like Joe, she was surprisingly strong. "You, too."
She let go, then reached for a small package on her desk. She handed it to Joe. "Here's his badges, parking sticker, and such. Decker has everything else waiting on your approval."
"Thanks," Joe said as he took it.
As she moved back toward her seat, Steele glimpsed the black leather holster underneath Kristen's sweater.
"So do all your receptionists pack heat?" he asked Joe as he led him toward the large door behind Kristen's desk.
"You'll find they change out frequently," Tiger said. "You get shot, and you'll take a stint at the desk, too. We're an equal-opportunity abuser here." She gave him an appreciative look. "Nice powers of perception."
"That's why you wanted me, isn't it?"
She didn't comment.
Steele paused as he entered the "office." On the surface, it looked typical enough. A cubicle section held desks behind tan fabric walls. On his left, an office area was encased in glass, with tan mini-blinds that were currently open.
That office was empty. No doubt it belonged to Joe and Tiger, who seemed to be the ones in charge.
People started popping out of the cubes to take a look at him. Most of them he could peg as government agents. There was a demeanor that most trained agents had that was unmistakable. But a couple of them he would have placed as criminals--sharks, con men, and other things best left unsaid.
"You sure we left Kansas?" he asked Joe.
"How so?"
He indicated the heads popping up. "Looks like a gopher farm."
The women laughed.
Suddenly, he heard a dog barking. Three seconds later, a small golden Pomeranian with a black face came running out of the glass office to launch itself into the arms of Tiger. "Petey!" she said happily as she nuzzled him.
Steele started to pet the dog, only to have it snap at him and growl viciously.
"Don't take it personally," Joe said. "Petey hates everyone except Tiger and Retter."
"That's 'cause Petey has taste, yes he does," Tiger said in a high-pitched voice as she played with her pet.
Holding the dog close, she and Joe led him toward the office without introducing him to anyone. Steele wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.
But he noticed that many of the agents were following them.
One of them, a tall blond man who was so clean-cut he looked more like a fashion model than an agent, cleared his throat before he addressed him. "So what do you think of our assistant director?"
Steele frowned as the guy pointed to the names on the door. In big block letters, it read "Joe Q. Public, Director," and underneath it was "The Thi Ho, Assistant Director."
But what was really strange was the handwritten sign taped below the names: "The truth is in here, so don't bug me with your bullshit."
Still, the unknown man was pointing to the woman's name.
Steele knew instantly the guy was trying to set him up. He glanced at Tiger and paraphrased her earlier words. "I like Tee already. She's snotty."
Tee/Tiger laughed out loud before she kissed Petey's head.
The guy gave her an aggravated stare. "No fair, Tee, you told him."
"No, I didn't," she said as she set her dog down so that he could run into the office, where Steele saw a small dog bed waiting for him. "He's just smarter than you are, Hunter. Then again, most people are."
Hunter screwed his face up in disgust before he looked back at Steele. "Did she tell you her name?"
"No," Steele said honestly. "I have a Vietnamese aunt."
Hunter huffed, then pulled out his wallet and handed two twenties to Joe. "I really hate you two."
Joe gave a laugh that reminded him of Snidely Whiplash. "Yeah, I know. Now get your ass back to work."
Grumbling, Hunter made his way back toward the cube farm along with mini-Angelina.
Steele felt a strange urge to call her back, though he didn't know why. Even though they'd barely spoken, he somehow felt like she was on his side.
Yeah...he was losing his mind.
With his hand splayed over the glass, Joe held the door open with one arm for them to enter. Tee directed Steele to a pair of chairs in front of Joe's desk while Joe shut the door, then closed the blinds.
"We'll handle introductions to the others later. For now, let's take care of business."
Steele nodded. "One question, though."
Joe sat down behind his gray metal desk while Tee took a seat next to Steele. "Sure."
"Are those your real names?"
Joe didn't look amused.
"Yes," Tee answered in a dry tone as her dog jumped up into her lap. "He's really Joseph Quincy Public, and I'm Ho Thi The, or in American The Thi Ho."
Interesting names. He wondered briefly if their parents had held a grudge against them.
But that wasn't the most important matter on his mind. "So do I get any more information about my future now?"
Tee stroked her dog's ears. "Basically we're a shadow agency, much like the group you were a part of in the Army. No one knows who we are, and we like it that way. You will be listed on payroll as a civilian contractor with government retirement and bennies. We have international jurisdiction, and if you get caught, no one will help you. We will deny all knowledge of you and your missions. Always."
Yep, that sounded like Shadow Corps. "So you're basically telling me that I'm dead to Uncle Sam."
She nodded. "We're based out of Nashville, but we have a few field offices scattered around the world. Your first assignment will be with another agent in the D.C. area."
Steele thought about that for a minute. "Just out of curiosity, why are you based in Nashville, when all other federal groups are based in the D.C. area? You guys do know that the Beltway is the hub of American government activity, right?"
It was Joe who answered. "We're roughly in the center of America. It gives us easy access to the rest of the country should we need to go somewhere in a hurry. Not to mention that when they drop the bomb on D.C., our agency will still be standing intact."
"Yeah," Tee said, "Haven't you ever seen the movies? D.C. and New York always get toasted. Once the bureaucrats go, Joe will be president."
Joe snorted. "I'd rather see Petey as president. Let them shoot the dog."
She dropped her jaw as if the mere thought offended her. "Hey! Insult my dog, and I will kill you."
Steele shook his head. "She's a lovely little thing, isn't she?"
"You've no idea." Joe pushed the box that Kristen had given him across the desk.
Steele opened it up. His jaw went s
lack at the contents. There was literally a badge for every known federal agency in there and they weren't even all American. CIA, ATF, DEA, FBI, NSA, even Interpol and Europol. Freakily enough, they all had his picture on them and looked completely legit. "Humor me for a second. Who exactly do I work for?"
"You work for me," Joe said, his eyes deadly earnest. "We are BAD--the Bureau of American Defense. But no one outside of this organization, other than the president--who will never admit we exist--has ever heard of us, and we intend to keep it that way. We are multijurisdictional, and we work with a variety of international governments who think we belong to other agencies, hence the badges. If you need one to gain admittance into an area, use it. You'll be given a series of phone numbers that will appear legit when called, and will verify you work with whatever agency you claim."
Before he could ask anything more, Tee spoke up. "Your partner is Sydney Westbrook. She'll show you the ropes and fill you in on any details."
Steele curled his lip at the upper-crust name. Sydney. Westbrook. Yeah. That was someone he wanted to train him in this. He could just imagine the tall, blond WASP goddess who would be more concerned with her manicure than their assignment.
"I don't work with rich socialities."
"Sydney knows her job," Tee assured him. "She's fully committed."
Steele tried not to roll his eyes. "Where's she from? Connecticut?"
"Boston. She's a Harvard graduate."
This time he couldn't stop himself. He rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, daddy's a banker?"
"Stockbroker, actually."
Steele turned at the deep, incredibly sexy voice of the woman who'd come in with them. This mission was really beginning to suck.
Tee inclined her head to Sydney. "She's your spotter."
Ah, hell nah.
Every piece of him screamed out at those words. Steele rose to his feet. "I don't work with a spotter, especially not a woman."
Sydney gave him a droll stare. "All snipers work with a spotter, and the fact that I'm a woman has nothing to do with anything."
"No, we don't, and I absolutely will not." He turned to face Joe. "And you can stick my ass back in Leavenworth before I work with her now."
Joe's face hardened. "You will do as you're told."
"Fuck you."
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Sydney asked, her face aghast.
He turned on her with a snarl. "No. She disowned me."
Syd felt the pain that he was doing his best to hide. She wanted to ask if he was serious, but the look on his face and his irate demeanor told her that he wasn't joking in the least. "Why did you shoot at your CO?"
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