by Mary Buckham
She said nothing. There was nothing to say. He had saved her life once. And, when the opportunity came, twice; to eliminate her and Stone, he’d let them live. Then there was the fact that several wanted terrorists were rounded up at Blade’s home. He may not have intended that to happen, but it did anyway. She’d like to think some good had come out of so much ugliness.
“Vaughn.” Her father cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. A first for him. “I’ve had a long conversation with Ling Mai.”
“Yes?”
“As diplomatic a woman as she is, she can also be very clear in setting the record straight.”
“About?”
“About when an old man oversteps his authority and crosses the line separating director of operations and father.”
When she said nothing, he continued, “I was wrong. It was with the best of intentions, but I was wrong and I endangered not only you and Stone, but your operation. Which is unforgivable for a man in my position.”
This time, she did stand. Too much bubbled and churned within her not to.
“What exactly are you saying, Father?”
“It means that you are good at what you’re choosing to do. It would not be my choice for you. And every day I will continue to worry and fear, and Lord knows how I’m going to explain things to your mother, but it is still your life—not mine—to direct. Not any more. My job is done.”
It was not emotion blurring her vision. Operatives did not go all warm and fuzzy at the drop of a hat. She was sure Stone had taught her that. On day one, no doubt.
“So there will be no reprisals against Ling Mai and the Agency?” Her voice quivered, but only a little.
He barked a short, rough laugh. “Ling Mai was gracious enough to explain to me that I need her more than she needs me.”
“And Stone? There will be no reprisals against him?”
“Only if he hurts you.” Her father’s voice deepened. “And then there’s no place on this earth he can hide.”
She stepped forward, no longer ashamed of the tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “Thank you.”
She hugged her father. He embraced her, his arms stiff and awkward around her, but there.
“About Mother,” she said, when she had stepped back, wiping tears from her eyes. “We could always lie.”
“And wait for her to find out?” Her father shook his head. “Easier for you, my dear. I must live with the woman.”
“Then I’ll tell her.” She raised a hand before he could interrupt. “In my own way. My own time.”
“But in this century?”
She grinned. “If I must. Yes, in this century.”
He brushed a strand of hair back from her damp cheek. “You go safely.”
“Of course. Always.”
He snorted. A very undignified, undiplomatic snort. “Ling Mai told me you were very much like myself. I guess I was afraid to look too closely to see the truth. But she was right.”
“Take care, Father.” Her smile felt real this time, and long overdue.
“Of course. Always.” He closed the door gently behind him.
Vaughn stood there, engulfed by the silence, not quite sure if she should hunt Ling Mai down and say…what? False alarm? The Agency would be safe from reprisal? Could she come back and be part of the team?
But before she could formulate a plan, the door shot open and Stone stood there.
“Good. Let’s go.”
She followed, asking, “Where?”
“Qatar. Hostage situation in a very exclusive expatriate housing development.”
“Tariq in Doha?” she asked, following closely as he headed down the hallway.
He paused. “Don’t tell me. Another boyfriend?”
“His sister. Qatar is the world’s richest oil-producing country. A lot of people enjoy its amenities.”
“Only people you know, princess.”
“That a problem?”
“Not anymore.” He grinned.
“But what about Ling Mai?” she asked.
“What about her?”
“Don’t be dense, Stone. I don’t know if I’m an agent or not.”
He laughed outright. “Of course you’re an agent. You never weren’t one.”
“But—”
“We’ve got to get moving here, princess. You in or out?”
“In.” It came on a whoosh of breath and felt right.
So very, very right.
They were almost to the command center when she stopped him again.
“What now?”
“You never told me what M.T. stands for.” If she didn’t find out right then and there, she never would. That was the problem with dealing with spooks. They were cagey. This one more than most.
He looked as if he wanted to refuse. Or shake her. But then she was used to that look.
“What is it, Stone? Malcolm Tennsion? Mark Taylor? What?”
“Monday, Tuesday.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You were named for days of the week?”
“Yeah.” He actually looked sheepish, glancing around to make sure they were still alone. “My mother always said it took her two days to give birth to me and I was never to forget it.”
She would not laugh. No matter how tempting. Not if she wanted to live to see a new day.
Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his stubble-darkened cheek. “That’s so sweet.”
“You tell anyone, princess, and—”
“And?” This time she did grin.
“Don’t push it.”
“Never.”
“Like I believe that. Get inside, deb.” He pointed to the door. “A mission awaits.”
A mission and a life.
It didn’t get any better than this.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5772-0
INVISIBLE RECRUIT
Copyright © 2006 by Mary E. Buckham
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