Kira read the scene. Her teachers had always said acting was as much about what your partners were giving you as what you did. Across the table, Diana’s face remained calm, but tight shoulder muscles showed through the uniform. Though her arms lay in a relaxed-looking fold, two fingers tapped her forearm. All of which meant . . . Diana had something at stake here, too. Kira would never have more leverage than she had right now.
She stood. “Thank you, Ms. Reynolds. You’ve been a great help, and I appreciate the offer, but Chloe and I are a team. It’s both of us or neither of us.”
Diana rose in turn, the faintest flicker of surprise crossing her features. “You don’t have to decide right now. Talk it over with Chloe, but understand I’m doing what I need to do.”
“I know, and I understand. But Chloe and I promised each other. I’m doing what I have to do, too.”
Kira turned and walked to the door.
Wait for it . . .
She put her hand on the door handle, pressed down—
A voice from behind her: “All right.”
Kira stopped, but didn’t turn. Diana shouldn’t see her face right now.
“Both of you.”
Kira let out a breath, composed her expression, and walked back to the worktable. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
Diana pointed to the chair. “Sit down. If we’re doing this, we need to talk.”
She then moved back toward the table but didn’t seat herself. “Here’s what I’m offering: Work with me a couple mornings a week, maybe some evenings. We’ll drill, assess your performance, and see if I can help. If we like working together, we request each other at graduation. If the AI matches us, you become my client, and I become your second.”
Diana paced in the tiny open area on the far side of the table as she continued. “You’ve got natural talent, but that’s nothing without work. My job is to make you the best gunfighter you can be. To do that, I need you to follow my orders. Ask questions if you don’t understand, but I expect you to follow through even if you don’t. Can you do that?”
Kira nodded. “Yes.”
Diana stopped pacing. “I’m going to ask Chloe the same question, and she needs to agree, too.”
“I’m sure she will. I’ll talk to her.”
“All right—good. Let’s start by meeting Wednesdays and Fridays at 6:00 a.m. Wednesdays at Simulator Four, Fridays at Firing Point Three.”
Kira keyed the dates into her handset.
“Also, you don’t have a concealed carry permit.”
“I don’t own a gun.”
Diana resumed pacing. “It’s time to fix that. Understand not everyone buys the idea you’re an instrument of society. Some people want personal revenge. Being a woman makes it worse.” Diana stopped and keyed something into her handset. “Carry any time you’re outside the training facility or the arena complex. As a trainee, you aren’t in much danger, but I want you to form the habit.”
Kira hesitated. “OK.”
Diana ignored Kira’s reaction and continued. “My husband owns a security company. Come down on Sunday at three thirty for your concealed carry training. Once you get your permit, we’ll work on making you a street fighter. That’s very different from winning a duel.”
Kira flinched. That was a chunk out of her day off. Not to mention another reason to avoid becoming a gunfighter. But she keyed the appointment into her handset. “OK.”
“We’ll loan you a pistol until you get a sponsor. Then you’ll carry theirs; that’s part of the deal.”
Kira frowned. “They keep saying not many of us will get sponsors.”
A smile pulled at one corner of Diana’s mouth. “You’ll be one who does.”
“Because people think I’m pretty.” Kira’s frown curled into a grimace.
“That helps.” Diana sat down again. “And if that’s the case, so what? Use it. But you’ll get sponsors because you’ve got presence. Combine that with a good dueling record and you’ll get a good contract. Especially if you negotiate for yourself as hard as you just did for Chloe.”
Kira tried to keep the smile off her face. “I think I can do that.”
Diana settled in, with her too-relaxed-to-really-be-relaxed face. “So, if we’re going to be partners, we shouldn’t have secrets.”
“OK . . .”
“How did you know I’d fold?”
Loyalty test? Genuine curiosity? Probably best to be truthful. Kira licked her lips. “Well, I knew at the Battle of Baravat, Major Diana Jensen . . .”
No facial reaction from Diana, but her fingers started tapping the desktop at the mention of her Marine rank and maiden name.
“. . . lead a counterattack to keep an Army battalion from being captured, even though her commander was dead and she was outnumbered and outgunned. She pulled it off, but got her right leg all shot to hell. They gave her the Navy Cross for it. I guessed the person who did all that might respect someone who wouldn’t cut a friend loose.”
Diana sat back in her chair, openly studying Kira. “They said you were a smart one. Where did you get all this?”
“I asked around.” That was a reasonable characterization of two weeks spent badgering anyone on staff who seemed to know anything about Diana, tracking down every available piece of public information, and obsessively posting questions on every forum for veterans of Iran that didn’t immediately kick her out.
“So, you know about my manslaughter conviction.”
“I know you did seven years in Leavenworth and came out with a dishonorable discharge.” Kira waited for a reaction, but got nothing at all this time. “All the details are behind the National Security seal.” Kira folded her hands. Maybe her new mentor would fill in the blanks.
Instead, Diana pulled her chair up to the table. “There’s good reason for that.”
Kira still said nothing.
When Diana finally spoke, she used a brisk, no-nonsense tone. “It doesn’t give anything away to say I’m guilty as charged. I wasn’t railroaded, I wasn’t framed, and I didn’t take the fall for anyone else. I screwed up, an innocent person died, and I probably got off easier than I deserved.” She fixed her eyes on Kira. “Does that change anything?”
It seemed like it should matter, but there was no denying that it didn’t. Kira shook her head. “No. It’s not like you’re teaching me to dance.”
Chapter 8
Kira swept through the apartment door, pushed it shut behind her, and held her grocery bag aloft like a prize won in battle. “Butter brickle.” Though they’d been out of the trainee housing for nearly three months and graduation was just around the corner, bringing home food to share with Chloe retained its novelty.
Stretched out on the couch in the living area, Chloe laughed. “How did you know?”
“I always know my roomie’s breakup food. It’s a gift.” In truth, it was memory. Nearly a year of living together and talking with the seemingly endless array of family members who passed through the Rossi household on Sunday afternoons had packed Kira’s head with facts about her roommate.
Kira loaded the ice cream into the freezer and set her purse in its place on the serving bar. “How’s it going?”
Chloe swatted the data pad with the back of her hand. “I don’t see why they make us learn anatomy. It all just means ‘shoot for the middle of the chest,’ right? That’s where all the important stuff is.”
“Well, there is knowing how to take care of yourself if you get hit.”
“I suppose.”
“And do damage assessment if you’re in a bleed-off.”
Chloe made a face.
Kira could mention part of the reason was to emphasize the trainee’s fragility, to reinforce the “kill or be killed” ethos of dueling that their instructors pushed at every opportunity, but she didn’t bring it up. Instead, she propped herself against one of the sofa’s arms and eyed her roommate sprawled across the seat. “Look, it’s not like they’re going to fail you based on the written p
ortion. All the points are on the simulator eval, and you’re doing great at that.”
Chloe flipped over the data pad. “How’s yours going?”
“Well, Ms. Reynolds let me quit early tonight, so either I’m in good shape or she’s given up.”
“You’re in good shape. She never gives up.” Chloe sat up and tipped her head toward the freezer. “Why don’t you help me eat that? I need a break.”
Kira hung her jacket on a serving barstool, exposing the holster on her shoulder. Wearing a weapon in the apartment still troubled Kira, but Chloe seemed to take it in stride. It would probably bother Chloe more to have Kira disappear into the bedroom to remove the holster just as the ice cream came out.
Chloe pulled the ice cream from the freezer and a scoop from their utility drawer. Kira extracted bowls from the cupboard and found two suitable spoons among the mismatched sets in their silverware drawer. Chloe filled the bowls, and they took their places at the serving bar.
Chloe took in her first spoonful and closed her eyes as a beatific expression crossed her face.
Kira grinned. “You really know how to get a lot out of that.”
Chloe smiled an embarrassed smile. “It’s good. I miss Niles less already.”
Kira laughed. “Good. That’s the point.” She fiddled with the ice cream in her bowl. “Do you really miss him all that much?”
“No, not really.” Some heat entered Chloe’s words. “He could be a real jerk. Like when we first got together, it was this huge deal whether he was going to call me his girlfriend or not. It was like it was this prize I had to win or something.” She scowled. “I should’ve seen it. But, you know, sometimes you want somebody, and if it seems like somebody’s interested . . .” Chloe dug at her ice cream.
“You’ll find somebody better.” Chloe’s venting was good. Part of the process.
“Not that it would take much. He was a dick about my family, too. He wouldn’t come meet Mom and Dad because ‘oh, that’s just too big of a thing right now.’” She rolled her eyes. “And then he kept insisting I come see him instead of being with them and getting all pouty and mad whenever I’d go to Sunday dinner or church or something.” Chloe’s ice cream bore the brunt of her remembered anger as she stabbed at it with her spoon. “But the thing that tore it was when he took a swing at me.”
Kira froze. “Really? You never told me that.”
Chloe looked down. “I guess I’m embarrassed I let it get that far. But yeah, I was over at his place and I got this handset message about a class getting rescheduled or something. All Niles sees is that it’s from a guy and he just flipped out and started screaming at me. Pretty soon we’re standing in the middle of his apartment and we’re both yelling, then all of a sudden he hauls off and swings for my face.”
Kira’s stomach became hollow. “He hit you?”
“He tried.” Chloe smirked a little. “He’s not the only one with gunfighter reflexes. I blocked it.” She took a spoonful of her battered ice cream and continued. “But I told him we were done.” Chloe looked to the far corner of the room, as if a scene only she could see played out there. “Before she was married, Mom lived with a guy who hit her. More than once. She always told me, ‘If a man lays hands on you, that’s the end. I don’t care if you’re married with three kids. Pack ’em up, call a driver, and get the hell out. No turning back.’” Chloe looked to Kira again. “All I had to do was get my stuff out of his dresser.”
“He let you do that?”
“Oh yeah. The moment I blocked his arm, he knew he’d messed up. He got all weepy and everything and started saying it’s only just because he loves me so much.” She snorted and stabbed at her ice cream again. “Asshole. Mom warned me about that, too.”
Kira nodded, though the hollow feeling had spread to her whole abdomen. “You did the right thing, no question.”
“Yeah. I just need to graduate and get through this.” Chloe scraped together the remains of her ice cream and scooped it into her mouth. “Save money and stay alive. I don’t need any guy shit to worry about.”
“Yeah, it’s just too hard right now.” Kira took another bite of ice cream. “Just focus on what we need to stay alive and get out.”
Chloe pushed her bowl aside. “You know, I keep meaning to ask you this. All that time you were in New York—”
“About two years.” Where was Chloe going with that question?
“OK, two years. In that time, couldn’t you get . . .” Chloe paused, her face and body shifting. “Couldn’t you find a guy who would, you know, take care of you?”
Kira laughed, but couldn’t keep the tinge of bitterness out of her voice. “I’m in for way more than anybody is willing to spend on a friend.” She cocked her head a little for effect. “Even a really, really, special friend.”
Chloe lowered her eyes and Kira continued. “And for anything more permanent . . . if a guy is rich enough not to be scared by my debts, he’s also rich enough he doesn’t have to settle for somebody like me. I’ve got no family and no accomplishments except some parts in theaters nobody has ever heard of and a couple of commercials.”
Chloe nodded. “So, I guess we’ve both got to take care of ourselves. And each other.”
“Exactly.”
They cleaned up together, and Kira went to her room. Having her own room was the best part of leaving trainee housing. TKC wanted to get the upperclassmen established off campus before they faced live bullets, and the company’s concern seemed warranted. Some of the younger guys were showing up late, in dirty uniforms, or hungry as they worked out the mysteries of living with no one to cover the domestic details. If they couldn’t survive doing their own laundry, how were they going to survive a gunfight?
For Kira and Chloe, though, it felt like a step up and a return to normalcy after living in the dorms, and their rankings rose accordingly.
Kira had almost unbuckled the first strap of her shoulder holster when her handset warbled for attention. Voice call.
She popped the device loose from its belt clip and checked the display. “Hey, Marla. What’s up?”
Her friend’s northern Minnesota lilt was as strong as ever. “Kira! I’ve got good news.”
“Really?”
“You bet. Remember that assistant manager thing we talked about?”
“I thought that fell through a year ago.” When Marla had delivered that news, Kira dialed the TKC recruiter without putting the handset down.
“It did, but it’s a new fiscal year, and I found a different funder. Same responsibilities—assist me with everything from donor relations to PR to filling in for ushers.”
Kira’s breath caught. “Are you still paying $55,000?”
“Only fifty.”
Kira sucked on her teeth. “After my payments, that doesn’t leave much.”
“Well, I’ve been talking to the board, they really like you, and we can furnish on-site housing.”
“On-site?”
“They built this place with a space for interns. We’re using one of the old bedrooms for storage, but we could clear it out. There’s a microwave and hot plate, and a shower down the hall. It’s not ideal, but I think it would work.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Would it be that much worse than sharing a bathroom with Chloe? “How long is the grant?”
“It’s three years to start. After that it renews annually for a total of five.”
Kira pulled her arms across her chest. This was a shaft of daylight, but no more than that. “Look, here’s the thing. To get out of this gig, I have to make enough to pay back my signing bonus.”
“There isn’t any money for that—”
“I know. But there’s this contest at the end of training. All the training schools in the region compete, and the person with the best final evaluation gets a cash prize. It’s enough.”
“Sounds as though you’re going out on a little bit of a limb there.”
“I’ve been doing that since day one. Can you wait until next Fri
day?”
“OK, but I can’t hold this door open forever, you know.”
“I know, and I appreciate what you’ve done, but I don’t have much room to maneuver. I really need this. Please?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“OK, thanks. I’ll let you know by next Friday.”
The connection clicked off.
Kira flopped onto the bed. Was this even really a way? She’d have to calculate the after-tax on that salary, and it was going to be a tight fit, even without rent. And what about the length of that grant—three years? Maybe five? What would happen then? There wouldn’t be enough cushion to build a cash reserve. She’d have to have something lined up before the grant ran out. How likely was that? Still, five years was a long time. Hell, three was a long time. Something would turn up, just like it was turning up now. But her current payment plan ran for seventeen years. Could she really keep this up until she was the same age as Diana? One step at a time . . .
Out in the main living area, the door chimed. Chloe answered. A male voice, the clunk of the door opening to the limit of the chain. Kira stood. Indistinct words filtered in.
“. . . want to talk!”
Niles. Yeah, it had to be Niles. Too bad when TKC sold his contract to United Re, his new employer hadn’t shipped him off to a different state.
“Yeah . . . only when you want something . . .”
Chloe was holding her own. Kira put her jacket in the closet but kept her shoes on and left her gun and holster in place.
“. . . tell me to . . .”
“. . . pull THAT shit on me!”
“. . . done!”
A loud thud, overlapping bursts of profanity, and the sound of something hitting the floor.
Kira entered the hall. Niles stood in the doorway, the door’s chain hanging loose. Chloe lay on the floor, rubbing her face. Niles leg was cocked, as if he were about to kick. On his right side, a quick-draw holster with a pistol in it.
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