Covert Game

by Christine Feehan

  "I thought the chances were slim," Trap contradicted. "Lately he hasn't been bothering unless he wants a specific genetic pairing for a child. Was the attraction between you instant and physical?"

  Zara detested the idea that Whitney might have paired them. She wanted one thing without his taint on it. She loved Gino. She loved the way he made love to her, even when it was wild and crazy or he was introducing her to things she hadn't known could be done. She didn't want to think that Whitney was in any way responsible. Gino brought his hand to the back of her neck, his fingers massaging. She knew he could feel the tension in her. She wanted to leave the room, not be around anyone while she tried to decide if Whitney had really used pheromones against them. She actually made a move, as if she might leave.

  Gino leaned into her, put his lips against her ear. "Do you really think Whitney could make me love someone? You've got my heart, Zara. He couldn't possibly make that happen. Settle. Let Trap puzzle this out. His mind is ... something."

  She took a breath, made herself relax under Gino's magic fingers. What did she know about Whitney? She was an observer. She'd trained herself to pay attention to the details around her. Whitney didn't understand emotion, but he did love his flowers. He always had a hothouse and he spent time there.

  "Trap, he spends time in his greenhouse. A huge amount of time. If he loves anything at all, it's his flowers." The moment the thought escaped, she was certain whatever that password was, it had something to do with his obsession with his flowers.

  Trap's gaze was fixed on her immediately. Speculative. "Simple," he murmured. "Zara means 'flower.' 'Orange flower' in Italian. Hothouse. His only real emotion." He repeated it, still rumpling his hair and staring at her. "Device named Fiore Brillante. Bright flower. Bright flower." Once again his gaze went to Zara, his laser-like stare focusing completely on her.

  She realized he wasn't really seeing her at all. He was in his own mind, shuffling through a thousand possibilities and discarding them.

  "You refer to the place he keeps his flowers as a hothouse, not a greenhouse, is that because he does?" Trap demanded.

  "He never called it a greenhouse," Zara said. She glanced at Bellisia for confirmation.

  Bellisia shook her head. "It was always hothouse."

  "He thought the entire green conversation for the planet was taking too much attention off the military when we needed it most."

  "Try ZagarAINHothousE," he said suddenly to Ezekiel. "Capitalize the first and last letter of each word. He likes to do that. With Bluetooth we don't need the exact location of the SSD in her brain, just close to it, so get close."

  "Why that combination?" Ezekiel objected. "What's your reasoning, Trap?"

  "It's Arabic, and a fusion of two words. Zara for 'flower' and 'Zahara' for beautifully bright," Wyatt provided. "Zara is beautifully bright and she's one of Whitney's flowers."

  "Still doesn't make sense. Why that specific spelling? Trap, how could you possibly come up with that phrase?" Ezekiel demanded.

  "He named Zara after the word for flower in Arabic so it means something to him. He has a hothouse and grows flowers. Citrus flowers vary, but zagara specifically indicates sweet orange and bitter orange trees. If you travel and want to keep citrus, you're going to have to grow it in a hothouse. Citrus can't be grown everywhere. Then there's the Italian input. Zara means 'orange flower.' Zagara has been in literature, specifically Italian literature. In the work, they mention a hothouse variety of zagara." He shrugged. "I could be far off, but his mind works like that. He believes he's very clever. We know he likes to capitalize the first and last letter of every word. It all comes back to Zara. She's his shining star. His bright flower."

  "He didn't think that of me," Zara objected. "That I was beautifully bright."

  "He didn't let you know he thought that," Gino corrected. "Baby, no one could see you, know your skills, and not feel you shine bright. It just isn't possible."

  Zara stiffened when Ezekiel moved very close to her and began typing into his small device. Her heart beat so hard she pressed her hand to her chest. What if they couldn't get the information? Would she have to leave Gino? What if they got it and it fell into the wrong hands? She became aware of Gino rubbing his hand down her back soothingly and knew her breathing had changed enough to give away her fears to him.

  "It's entered, and the SSD seemed to accept it. Can you do your thing, Zara?" Ezekiel asked. "Tell the SSD to download to our device?" Clearly, he wanted to see if she could do it.

  She held her breath, but nodded. Reaching for the machine, she gave it orders to connect with the device Ezekiel held. She felt the response, the way the machine accepted her energy and immediately, as if she were part of the hard drive, did her bidding. There was a moment of silence and then Ezekiel's breath hissed out as he stared at Trap's storage prototype in his hand.

  "Holy fuck, Joe, she's really got these files. They're downloading right now. I can't believe this. She didn't do anything, say a word. Zara, has anyone ever told you that you're a miracle? Because you are."

  "She is," Gino agreed, "in more ways than one."

  Zara shivered, glancing warily toward Joe and then Trap. These were men who thought in terms of weapons and how they could use them. She had a gift that was unparalleled. As far as she knew, no one else could talk to machines, let alone give a speech and talk to them. Why had she let Whitney make her think she was worthless?

  She glanced at Bellisia. Immediately Bellisia reached out and took her hand, smiling at her, pride in her eyes. "I knew you'd be able to do this."

  "I think Trap and the others helped."

  Trap shook his head. "The hothouse thing was the deciding piece in my mind."

  She had no idea how he could get Zagara in hothouse as a password, even after he explained it. Joe stood up and took out his cell phone, indicated to the others that he wanted silence. It was only a matter of seconds before it became apparent why.

  "Whitney? Joe Spagnola here. Just thought I'd connect with you. Really hoped this phone number still worked. We just extracted the information from the SSD you installed in Zara's brain. Very clever. She has a one in a million gift, doesn't she?"

  Joe was silent a moment, nodding his head. "Yeah, Trap figured it out. That was your main worry, wasn't it? You knew once Trap was brought in it was going to be over. Stay out of Zara's life. Keep your word this time. You want to send your supersoldiers against us once in a while to test them, we accept that, but you know Gino's a wild card. You don't want him set loose on you, and you take his woman, he'll be coming after you. They'll be no stopping him."

  Again, there was a small silence while Joe listened to Whitney. "No chance that I'll send you any of that information. None, Whitney. I won't bargain with you. You knew Violet was flawed, but you sent her out anyway and in the end, you may as well have pulled the trigger that killed her. You sent Zara after Cheng knowing what would happen to her. You're never going to be my favorite person. I'm not the man who will help you. I'm telling you to back off Zara and giving you the warning that if you don't, you'll be contending with Gino."

  There was another silence. Joe shook his head. "Not happening. You can figure out who will end up with the information, if anyone does. For all I know, it will be destroyed." They all knew better. Joe shrugged. "Don't know. Don't care. Just leave her alone, or you're going to find out what happens when four teams of GhostWalkers decide to make you their number one priority. You need to start thinking about that."

  Again silence. Then Joe sighed. "I get it, Whitney. You're a great patriot, blah, blah, blah. I'm getting damned tired of seeing the havoc you wreak with your fucked-up experiments on these women. You have no right to hold them prisoners. I'm hanging up now. Things happen if my temper gets loose, but you already know that, don't you?" He ended the call and looked at Zara. "I believe he's smart enough to take me seriously, honey."

  "Thank you." She indicated the device where the information was stored. "What are you going to
do with that?"

  "I'm hand delivering it to Major General. It's his problem, not ours. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes when he gets this little bomb. It could blow up in his face. Again, not our problem. I'm leaving tonight."

  18

  "S

  o, this is a girls' night," Bellisia said, lifting her feet up onto the chair like she did at home. She looked around her at the crowded bar with a small smile on her face. "I always wondered. Is the objective to get drunk?"

  The music blared so loud it was difficult for Zara to hear her. She leaned forward, across the small table where the other women, Cayenne, Nonny and Pepper, were crowded together. "I think it's to have fun, Bellisia."

  Nonny laughed at both of them. "When I was your age, I had two best friends, Lona and Melissa. They were both married as well, and we'd get one night off a month. Our husbands would watch the young ones, and we'd go into the swamp to the bar. At that time, the Huracan Club wasn't named that, but it was this same bar. It's had a makeover, been remodeled a couple of times since then. Still, there were peanuts on the floor, no piano, but music blastin'. The three of us loved to dance and we did, all night long. We didn't have to worry about men 'hittin' on us,' as you young folks say. They all knew our husbands. In those days, a man comin' after your woman was a killin' offense."

  "This was the bar?" Bellisia asked, looking around her.

  Nonny nodded. "It's been in the Thibodeaux family for a long time. We tend to hand things down, father to son, mother to daughter. 'Course, I never had me a daughter." She looked around the table at the four women. "Not until now. We're only missing Flame, Gator's wife."

  Zara loved that Nonny included her. She'd never had a mother, and as role models went, Nonny was perfect.

  "So, the goal is to have fun," Cayenne said. "Like going over and giving my husband a lap dance and then walking away. That would be fun."

  The women burst out laughing. Nonny tried to scowl, but only ended up laughing harder than the others. "Of course you would think of that, Cayenne. Trap would carry you off. You know he would."

  "Isn't that the idea?" Cayenne sent a smoldering look Trap's way.

  "I want to know how Nonny knows what a lap dance is," Bellisia said. "I had to look it up on the Internet when Cayenne told me she sometimes gave Trap lap dances. And worked a pole and did silks. She's got the moves."

  "Wait. I want to know how to do a lap dance," Zara said.

  "There's video," Bellisia said. "And instructions on some. Seriously, Zara, we have a lot of catching up to do."

  Zara tried to look pious. "I actually saw a lap dance once, at a frat party. I snuck in because I heard they were going to be giving them to the guys. It looked very interesting."

  "And you didn't share?" Bellisia feigned outrage.

  "I didn't want you practicing on me." She managed to say it with a straight face.

  Another round of shared laughter went up.

  "Now do you see why girls' night is so important?" Nonny asked. "We didn't have the Internet and cell phones. Mostly, we came together to share knowledge and answer one another's questions and learn." She lifted her hand and immediately beer was brought to the table and set in front of each of the women.

  Delmar Thibodeaux bowed slightly as if he had royalty in his club. "Grace Fontenot, what a privilege. I'm not takin' your money," he added, pushing back the bill on the table. He eyed Cayenne. "You're sittin' with Grace, so you're welcome, but I expect you and your man won't be causin' trouble." He lifted his gaze toward the back table as if he could pierce that darkness and see Trap.

  Cayenne smiled at him but didn't reply. Nonny patted his hand. "I'll be responsible for all of them, Delmar. Thank you for the round of beer. Please allow us to pay for any other rounds we drink tonight."

  Delmar looked as if he objected, but there was no getting away from Nonny's determination. He nodded his head, gave Cayenne one more serious glare and then went back to the bar.

  Bellisia whistled softly. "Cayenne, you've been holding out on us. What exactly did you do to get that kind of welcome?" She picked up the beer and took a healthy drink. "There's nothing better on a hot, sultry night, then an ice-cold beer," she added.

  Cayenne shrugged. "Which time? I started out with a bad reputation, and it seems to grow through no fault of my own. You know Trap and his jealousy. It was just a little fight this last time. We were making out on the dance floor and maybe some other stuff, but it was dark and he was hot and anyway some man wanted in on the fun and Trap got kind of upset. Wyatt pulled him off the man and his three friends and we left. We paid for the damage though."

  Bellisia rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but laugh. "There's no saving you, girl."

  Zara let her gaze slide from the group of women over to the darkest corner of the bar where she knew the men were kicked back, hopefully relaxing. She could barely make them out. Trap was there, but she couldn't see him at all. There had been no question that Trap would be there if Cayenne was. And Wyatt. Pepper was a very sensual woman, and one touch of her skin could set up an addiction to her. Supposedly her pregnancy helped suppress the hormone hidden so cleverly in her skin, or whatever it was that Wyatt called it, but no one was taking chances.

  Ezekiel had accompanied them as well, saying there was no way his woman was going to a bar where danger might be lurking, without him. Gino had made it clear that where Zara went, he did. The last man at the table was Malichai. He said he was watching out for Nonny. He said he knew the woman could drink them all under the table and then she might take it into her head to cause some kind of ruckus. Nonny had rolled her eyes, but she hadn't objected.

  "Did you come here very often with your husband?" Pepper asked.

  Nonny nodded. "My friends and I came up with a plan where we watched one another's children so the other could have a night off with our man. Berengere, my husband, liked to dance and he would take me here on our night. He was a good man. A very good man." Her voice drifted off and she looked away, lifting the bottle of beer to her lips.

  "I really do want to learn to lap dance," Zara said, changing the subject because she detested seeing Nonny sad. "Gino would love it."

  "I could show you," Cayenne said, half rising.

  Nonny put a hand on her arm just as Bellisia did too. "I'm not near drunk," Bellisia objected. "Let me get a few beers in me. I have to be feeling just a little tipsy."

  "I can't drink," Pepper said. "You can have my beer, Bella."

  "Pepper has been with me the longest," Nonny said. "She graciously has stayed in my home rather than asking Wyatt to build her another one. Her generosity allows me to see my great-granddaughters every day, and they are the light of my life." She raised the beer bottle. "Thank you, my girl. You surely have become my daughter."

  The others raised their bottles toward Pepper, who smiled at the older woman. "I think you're the generous one, Nonny, to all of us. None of us knew anything about homes and families. You took us all in and put up with our strange behaviors ..." She raised her glass of water while the others again raised their beer bottles and took another drink.

  "I just can't figure out cooking," Cayenne said. "Zara had to sit out the first month and now, after just a month with your lessons, she's top of the class. I don't get that. I really do try, Nonny. When I'm at your house, I totally get it done, but then I'm home and I suck at it." She lifted her beer bottle. "To Zara and her expertise at cooking."

  "Hear, hear," Bellisia said, and they all took another swig of beer.

  "You don't pay attention when you're cookin' at home," Nonny said to Cayenne.

  "I do," Cayenne objected.

  "You do when you're in my kitchen with all the girls and me, but when you're home alone with Trap and he's in the kitchen with you, I doubt you give your cookin' the same focus."

  There was silence while comprehension slipped into Cayenne's expression. The women around the table erupted into laughter.

  "She's so right." Pepper nudged Cayenne with h
er glass of water. "You and Trap can't go long enough to boil water without having your hands on each other. Here's to finding out the real reason Cayenne can't cook."

  Everyone drank down the last of their beers, and Nonny raised her empty bottle into the air. Delmar must have been waiting for her signal because he returned with another round. This time, instead of bringing Pepper a beer, he brought her an ice-cold water.

  "You want something else?" Delmar plopped a tall frosted glass on the table in front of Pepper. "Your man says you're gonna have a baby and you can't drink beer. This is my own favorite drink, lemonade and lime with sugar and soda water. Just try it. I put some mint in there. Grow it myself out back."

  Pepper glanced at Nonny as if waiting for a cue. Nonny inclined her head slightly, and Pepper smiled carefully at the man, trying hard to keep the wattage down. "Thank you, it looks lovely," she said.

  The moment she spoke and smiled at him, it wasn't difficult to see he was a bit ensnared by her. His face turned a dull red and he sputtered his acknowledgment. A chair scraped near the back wall, the sound coming from the darkest corner, breaking the spell so Delmar stepped back away from the table.