Bad Attitude

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  His dark eyes singed her with fire. "He. Pissed. Me. Off."

  "I can relate," Syd said calmly. "Joe pisses me off constantly, but I've never taken a shot at him."

  "I have," Tee muttered.

  Syd frowned at Tee, who had her attention on Petey. She looked back at Steele, who was still tense and angry. "Look, we are on the brink of a potential international disaster that could hit us any day now. Remember how the first world war started?"

  "Archduke Ferdinand and his wife Sophie were shot and killed while visiting in Sarajevo."

  Thank God the man had a brain and knew his history. "That's right. And in a few days a foreign dignitary from a former Soviet bloc country will be here for an important meeting in D.C. with the president. Just like Franz and Sophie, he's been marked for assassination by a group of rebels. Our job is to save his life. If we fail, not only America, but his and other countries are completely screwed. We can't let him die on American soil. Understand? We need you to nail his assassin before the assassin nails him."

  "Why don't you just tell him to stay home?"

  It was Joe who answered. "A, you don't just tell another president he's not welcome here. It looks bad in the press. B, whether he dies here or at home, we're screwed politically. The best place to protect him is here, where we can nail his executioner before the hit takes place."

  "You make that sound so easy," Steele said sarcastically. "And just when and where is this going to take place?"

  Syd cringed at his question. "We don't know exactly. Basically, we have two ways to go about this. In the first, I'll go over his published itinerary with you, and your job is to pick out the most likely position for the hit. We'll set up an observation point and take out the assassin whenever he moves in on the president."

  His eyes narrowed. "President of what?"

  "Uhbukistan."

  He shook his head. "The Kabukis are coming for us? Yeah, that's a big threat."

  Syd ground her teeth at his flippant attitude as anger whipped through her. "Not Kabukis. The Uhbukistanis, and they're not to be taken lightly, Mr. Steele. They were part of the former Soviet Union and are strategically placed just north of Georgia and between the Caspian and Black Seas. Their lands are rich in oil reserves and are highly coveted in the region. As a border country, the USSR stockpiled them with nuclear weapons during the Cold War, and after the collapse, no one has reclaimed those weapons. President Kaskamanov is an ally to us, and he wants to disarm his country and join the European Community. His son, on the other hand, isn't our friend. He's a mercenary bastard who wants to sell the weapons to the highest bidder."

  "Let me guess. America ain't it."

  She nodded. "So his son thinks that if his father dies here, he can blame us, take control of the country, and then deal with whomever pays him the most. And I don't think I have to tell you what will happen if those weapons fall into the wrong hands. There's no telling how many people could die."

  Steele folded his arms over his chest and gave her a bored stare. "Look, I don't care what the Ooga-Boogas do. It sounds like they need a family counselor, not a sniper."

  She was going to kill him. Why was he being so stubborn?

  Didn't he care?

  "They're not Ooga-Boogas, they're Uhbukistanis."

  Still he gave her that cold, dispassionate stare. "Whatever. My personal belief is that we should leave Ooga-Booga Land to the Oompa-Loompas. Let them fight it out with the Snozzwangers, Wangdoodles, and the mean Vermicious Knids. I'd rather go peel carrots with a spoon."

  He started past her.

  Syd grabbed his arm to stop him. "What kind of soldier are you that you're going to just sit in a cell while the world is thrown into chaos? Do you not understand what could happen if those weapons fall into the wrong hands? How could you be so selfish?"

  "Selfish?" he asked angrily. His eyes darkened even more. "I'm selfish? Look, Agent Westbrook, your daddy's a Boston stockbroker. I'm a death broker. I'm sure you don't lecture Daddy on finance, so don't even try to lecture me on assassination politics. I know all about them. Some bureaucratic ass-wipe sitting in a pristine office that's totally isolated from the rest of the world decides the son of King Oompa-Loompa is a threat. He then hands down orders to people like me to go off King Oompa-Loompa's son. Like an idiot, I do what he says without question. I hunt my target down, using information that is mostly bullshit and unreliable, gathered by someone like you who assured me it was correct at the time. But hey, it changes minute by minute, and God forbid we pass that along to you."

  He backed her up against the wall as his eyes continued to singe her. She wasn't afraid of him, but his anger was so fierce it was tangible, and she was all too aware that he could hurt her before she could draw her weapon.

  "So me and my spotter lie in the grass, sand, or snow for days on end, cramped and hungry, never able to move more than a millimeter an hour until I have that one perfect shot I've been waiting for for days. I take it, and then we lay there like pieces of dirt until we can inch our way back to safety, where hopefully the helicopter team will remember that they were supposed to retrieve us."

  She swallowed at what he described.

  "Have you any idea of the nerves it takes to do what I do? To lie there on the ground while other armed men search for you? Have them step on you and not be able to even breathe or wince because if you do, it's not only your life, but the life of your spotter?"

  Her heart clenched at that, and when he spoke the next words, she actually gasped.

  "Do you know what it's like to have the brains of your best friend sprayed into your face and not be able to render aid to him because you know he's dead and if you do, you'll be killed too?" His low, deep voice was trembling now. "I have been into the bowels of hell and back, Miz Westbrook. I have stared down the devil and made him sweat. So don't tell me I don't take this seriously. Believe me, there is nothing in life I know better than what I was trained to do."

  Syd nodded at his words as she finally understood him completely. "Your spotter was killed."

  A tic worked in his jaw as ultimate pain flared deep in those chocolate eyes. "He wasn't just my spotter, Agent. He was my best friend. I swore to his wife that I'd bring him home in one piece. And I let him die."

  "He knew the risks."

  He sneered at her. "Save it. I've heard the spiel from the army psychologists and everyone else. Had I listened to myself and not taken up position where they told me to because they knew best, Brian would be alive now. I'm not going into another setup planned by a federally trained spook to get someone else killed. Ever. I'm through with this."

  Syd felt for the man. She couldn't imagine the horror of lying next to a friend who'd been killed in front of her. It was a wonder he was still sane.

  But it didn't change anything. They needed him.

  "How did you escape?" she asked him.

  His gaze turned cloudy, as if the scene were replaying through his mind. "I fought my way out in a manner that would have made Rambo proud. And when I got home without his body because I couldn't pull him out without getting myself killed, I got slapped in my face by everyone around me. So don't talk to me about death, little girl. I wrote the book on it."

  "And that's why we need you," she said quietly, wanting to reach out and touch him, but knowing he was in no mood to be coddled. There were no words or actions that could erase the hell he'd been through.

  He shook his head. "There are other snipers out there. Granted, not as good as I am, but they're good enough to get you killed."

  "No," she said earnestly. "Not with your training. You were taught to shoot by the single most successful sniper in military history. I'm assuming your father taught you everything he knows."

  That went over him like toxic waste. His entire body tensed, and she swore she could almost taste his anger. "Then hire my father. I'm out of this, and I'm out of here."

  As he started for the door, Joe spoke up. "Where are you going, Steele?"

 
; Steele froze as that single, innocuous question went through him like a knife. For the second time since he'd walked into this office, he felt savaged by his emotions.

  He had no car. No money. No home. No family. No friends.

  Nothing.

  He hadn't owned anything in more than two years.

  And he'd never in his life felt so helpless. So worthless. He turned around to face Joe, who watched him carefully. Something in the man's eyes said Joe fully understood what he felt right now, though to be honest, he had no idea how he possibly could.

  Steele swallowed the pain that had gathered in his throat, choking him. The first thing his father had taught him as a boy was never to betray his emotions. It was that cold, dead person he showed to Joe and the women now. "I refuse to lie down beside another spotter and see her die while there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm through with this."

  Joe nodded. "Understood. But you know, we've been looking for a backup sniper for the last three years, and you're the only one we've ever brought here to Nashville to interview. You're the only one to ever see this office, or Petey."

  Joe's humor was lost on him at the moment. "Why me?"

  Those blue eyes were as cold as Steele's nerves. "Because you know what tragedy can happen when you don't exercise free thought. We don't want anyone here who's by the book. Anyone who has to be told what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. We need agents who can think on their own and execute their missions without someone micromanaging them."

  Steele folded his arms over his chest. "There are plenty of snipers who can do that."

  "And we need someone who won't be missed," Tee said coldly. "Someone without any family or friend entanglements. In the four years since this agency was founded, you are only the second sniper we've found who met all of our needs."

  That just made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. They wanted him because, unlike Brian, if someone blew his brains out no one would shed a single tear.

  Boy, he had the life, huh?

  "Tell you what," Joe said, his features softening a degree. "Why don't you take a few hours and rest. Get used to being free for a while. Get a good night's sleep where you don't have to worry about being vulnerable. If you still feel like this tomorrow, we'll put you right back where you were. No harm, no foul. Deal?"

  Steele wasn't sure about that. He had a feeling the harm had already been done. "I have no place to stay."

  Joe pushed an intercom button on his desk. "Kristen, have Carlos come in."

  A few seconds later, the office door opened to show him a tall Hispanic male. "Yo, bossman? You rang?"

  Joe indicated Steele with a tilt of his head. "Carlos, meet Steele."

  Carlos held his hand out to him. "Hola."

  Steele hesitated before he shook it. "Hi."

  "Steele is a special recruit who doesn't have any place to stay. He needs some downtime, so I was wondering if he could bunk with you for the night."

  "Sure, jefe."

  "Gracias."

  "De nada." Carlos opened the door again. "You ready to leave now, or do you need a few more minutes?"

  Steele looked at Joe.

  "We're done...for now."

  He glanced at Sydney, who was watching him with an angry tic in her jaw. Part of him hated that he'd ruined her plans. But she'd find another fool to do her bidding. All he wanted was to be left alone.

  She met his gaze with heat burning deep in those green eyes. There was a time when the accusation there would have spurned him to take this mission just to prove her wrong. But he'd done a lot of growing up over the last two years. Dares didn't motivate him anymore.

  Nothing did.

  "Hasta la vista," he said to her as he started for the door.

  Her response in Spanish caught him completely off guard. "Don't let the door hit you in the ass."

  Shaking his head at her, he followed Carlos out of the office.

  Syd didn't move until she was alone with Tee and Joe. "So you're just going to let him leave?"

  Joe sat back in his chair to watch her with that blank expression he was famous for. "We can't make him shoot someone, Syd. That's against the Constitution."

  Frustration consumed her. She'd come so close to having what she needed. "So what am I supposed to do now? We have less than three weeks to put this together."

  Joe glanced at Tee, who was feeding Petey a dog biscuit, before he answered. "Have faith."

  "No offense, my faith died ten years ago."

  Joe looked back at her. "I know, but sometimes you have to believe in other people, Syd. Many times they'll surprise you."

  Yeah, right. "I'm all right with that so long as the surprise is a good one. In my experience, though, it usually isn't."

  And something inside told her that Steele wasn't the kind of guy to just blithely change his mind. He was gone, and now she had nowhere else to turn.

  She hated feeling like this. She could see the future ahead of them, and it terrified her.

  Five

  S teele followed Carlos out of the office, past Kristen, who was on the phone, speaking flawless German to someone. She paused to wave at them. There was something strangely surreal about all this. Like he'd walked into a movie or a dream, and that at any moment he'd find himself snatched back to his jail cell. It just didn't seem like it was possible that he was here, away from prison, surrounded by such an odd cast of people.

  Without a word, Carlos headed to the elevator and pressed the down button. Immediately after the light came on, Carlos moved to the side of the doors with his back against the wall as if he half expected the doors to open and someone to jump out and shoot him. He even put his hand under his jacket, no doubt over his weapon.

  "Been an agent long?" he asked Carlos.

  Carlos let out an evil laugh. "You could say that."

  Maybe, but there was something about the man that denied it. He reminded Steele more of the criminals he'd been locked up with. The way he moved, like a hungry predator who knew it had to kill or be killed. It wasn't the arrogance that most Feds had. It was something else. Something almost diabolical. "You don't strike me as a typical Fed."

  The doors opened. Carlos lifted his head away from the wall to scan the inside before he moved away from the wall. "I'm not a typical Fed." He literally crept into the elevator and scanned all the way up to the ceiling before he relaxed.

  "I really don't want to be this paranoid," Steele muttered as he entered the elevator.

  Carlos laughed. "My paranoia has nothing to do with my current job. It's a holdover from my past, and those who would like to ensure I have no future." Carlos pressed the button for the lobby.

  "And what was your past employment?"

  Carlos smirked at him. "I don't know you well enough to answer that...yet."

  Steele couldn't fault him there. His past wasn't something he liked to talk about either. And they were strangers, so it made sense that Carlos was defensive.

  "So do you speak Spanish?" Carlos asked.

  Actually he did, but Steele had learned the value of discretion early on. "Only what I've learned in Terminator movies, Sesame Street, and from Speedy Gonzales."

  Carlos shook his head. "It's all right. I understand. I personally learned to speak English from Hanna-Barbera cartoons."

  Steele gave him a droll stare.

  "It's true." He made the sign of the cross over his heart. "For years though, I kept trying to find 'ruh-roh' "--he imitated Scooby-Doo's voice--"in dictionaries. It wasn't until my little brother went to college in Miami that he finally told me it wasn't a real word. Talk about feeling stupid. Thanks, Scooby. But what the hell, my brother got a good laugh out of it."

  Steele forced himself not to laugh. He doubted if the man would appreciate it.

  The doors opened to the lobby.

  "Hola, Tracy," Carlos said to a petite blond knockout who was waiting to enter the elevator they were leaving.

  She gave them both a spectacular smile. "Hi, Carlos. How's i
t going?"

  "It'll go better the day you leave your boyfriend and give me a date." He winked at her.

  She all but beamed at him. "The day I leave him, you're the first one I'll call," she said with a laugh as she entered the car.

  Carlos covered his heart with his hand as if he were in pain. "Ah, you break my heart, little dove." He blew her a kiss as the doors closed.

  Once they were alone, Carlos growled deep in his throat as he led the way across the lobby, toward the doors that opened onto the street. "You should see her boyfriend. He's a total ass. Completely undeserving of something that fine and tasty."

  It'd been over two years since Steele had seen anything in the flesh as good-looking as Tracy was. But what struck him the most was that he wasn't nearly as attracted to her as he'd been to Syd.

  I've been in jail way too long.

  And if he had to go back tomorrow, he'd like nothing better than finding some action tonight. Twenty-three more years was a long time to go without a woman, and that's what he was looking at if Joe sent him back to Kansas.

  The mere thought of it made his cock jerk.

  They left the building and headed toward the garage across the street. His gut tightened as he realized how close he was to losing his freedom again. He glanced around at the people on the shaded street. Two women were heading into a restaurant as they chatted about work. A family that was obviously touring the stores and town crossed the street. The dad looked flustered as the two kids fought and the mother snapped at them.

  A guy was on the corner, yelling at someone on the cell phone....

  None of them had any idea how lucky they were to be living out their lives in such a normal way. There wasn't anyone telling them what time to get up, what time to go to sleep. They didn't have to make roll call. They weren't referred to by their inmate number.

  They were just people who had no idea how quickly their entire existence could change.

  One stupid move...

  On the morning he'd been arrested, the day had started out like any other. He'd gotten up without enough sleep, had shaved, dressed, and gone to work, expecting it to be just another day.

  And in one split second, because of one stupid decision, he'd thrown it all away.