The Russians and Italians scattered, firing back and taking cover. As Chase dove behind a piece of heavy machinery, she glimpsed a familiar figure among the feds. The last person she expected or wanted to see. Regina.
Regina saw her, too. Though one of the feds tried to stop her, she ran straight for Chase and managed to join her without getting hit by the crossfire. Bullets whizzed around them in a deafening noise. The Italians were shooting, the feds were shooting, and the Russians evidently thought the mob had set them up, because they were firing at both the feds and Stellari’s people.
Chase had few options. She couldn’t shoot at the Italians because she’d blow her cover and they’d kill her, and she couldn’t shoot back at the feds because that would be unethical. Her priority at the moment was to get Regina out of there. She tried to cover her with her own body, looking for an opportunity. She spotted a door at the side of the building and decided to make a run for it. Chase grabbed Regina’s hand and told her to stay low. They were almost there when shots started coming from behind the huge barrels. Chase couldn’t see who was firing, but she was sure it was the Russians who’d taken cover.
She started to shoot back, covering them both as Regina ran ahead, but a bullet hit Regina before she made it to the exit. She lay on the cement floor, a dark circle of red blossoming on the center of her pale-yellow blouse, as more bullets zinged by Chase’s head. More Russians were hidden behind the machinery surrounding them, so Chase fired back with her Colt 1911 as she dragged Regina behind a stack of metal drums. In no time, her gun was empty.
Chase put Regina’s head in her lap and caressed her dark hair away from her forehead. Regina kept whispering she was sorry, she only wanted to help. She said the feds had threatened to arrest her father and his associates—Chase included—unless she told them where the meeting with the arms dealer was going to be. If she cooperated, they promised to arrest only the Russian and his men. They’d leave the rest alone.
God, she was so innocent. As she lay dying in a puddle of her own blood, Regina was only concerned that Chase forgive her and that they be together. “Promise me you’ll take me away,” she’d kept saying. Chase held her close and cried out of love and fury. Cried until she heard a familiar voice, from very close.
She peered through a crack between the barrels where the shots had been coming from and stared straight into the face of a stranger who sounded exactly like Jack. No. This can’t be. But the voice was unmistakable. She studied the woman closer. Her facial features were different, but even in the dimly lit warehouse, Chase recognized too many other commonalities for it to be mere coincidence. Height and weight. Build. Mannerisms. The shape of her face. The color of her hair. Even her trademark black clothes and weapon of choice: a Glock 34. It had to be Jack. As Chase watched, she crouched behind another stack of barrels, her focus on the shootout.
Chase hadn’t seen her earlier. She didn’t know what shocked her more, the fact that Jack was alive or that she evidently worked for the Russian arms dealer. None of this surreal mess made sense. Jack was standing here before her, and Regina lay dead in her arms. Jack had killed this sweet, wonderful girl. Chase looked at the useless gun in her hand. She wanted to scream out her fury and attack Jack, but Jack would shoot without hesitation. Not because Jack wouldn’t recognize her, but because the look in her eyes was that of a cold killer. The Jack she knew was gone.
“Get down. I have him,” Jack said to someone Chase couldn’t see, before she took down one of the feds and, a moment later, one of the Italians.
Chase remained hidden and didn’t make a sound.
After another minute, the arms dealer himself crawled out from behind some cover and joined Jack. “Kill Stellari,” he told her.
“That’s what you paid me for, that’s what I’ll do.”
“When did you get here?” the Russian asked, wiping the sweat from his face.
“I was here before you,” Jack said.
“That’s why they call you Silent Death.”
“Yeah,” Jack replied, and fired. The dom crumpled to the floor. The feds kept shooting in all directions except theirs.
“I pay you anything you want if you get me out of here,” the arms dealer said.
“What’s it worth to you? My fee was for Stellari, not for saving your ass.”
“Double.”
“Follow me,” Jack replied. She led him safely away, through the door Chase had been headed toward with Regina.
To this day, Chase still couldn’t answer why she hadn’t told the EOO about Jack. The experience had changed her. Since then, Chase had avoided any kind of intimacy, especially with women who mattered. Losing Regina had cost her too much, and as long as she lived a life of such uncertainty it was painful and pointless to drag anyone else into it. Just like Landor, she’d stick to easy and uncomplicated if she couldn’t have the one she wanted. Only in this case, the woman she wanted was dead.
“You still in there?” Jack’s voice startled her out of her reverie.
Chase fought an overwhelming urge to say something cruel. She wanted to confront Jack with who she was and what she knew, but that would make an already unpleasant working situation impossible. Maybe she’d let it all out once this job was done. Maybe she’d finally let Jack have what was coming to her. Maybe. “I heard you the first time,” she finally replied.
“Time’s wasting. Christ, what’s wrong with you? Remember Cass?”
“I’m calling already,” Chase said. “Just shut up.”
“About damn time.”
Chase reluctantly pushed Dial on her phone. She watched Heather on the monitor as she reached for her cell.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Heather. This is Brett, from the Cave.”
Heather smiled. “Of course. I remember who you are.”
“Are you busy? Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all.”
“Excellent. I was wondering if you had time to meet with me tonight?”
“For a signed copy?” Heather asked.
“Right. I was in Manhattan anyway, so—”
“I’d love…I mean, sure. My brother hasn’t stopped talking about you ever since I told him.”
“I’m flattered. So when is convenient for you?”
“Can you give me an hour? How about you pick me up?” Heather asked.
Chase checked her watch. “Of course. Just tell me where.”
Heather gave Chase the address they were sitting in front of.
“I’ll be there at seven,” Chase said.
“Great. See you in a little.”
“I look forward to it.” As Chase hung up, she watched Heather head into her bedroom. She pulled several ensembles from the closet, a mix of casual and dressy, and laid them on the bed, pursing her lips while she considered which to wear.
“Now, was that so hard?” Jack asked.
Chase turned to face her as the urge to physically hurt Jack returned. “Don’t push it, Harding.”
They were interrupted by Heather’s voice on the audio feed from her landline. She’d picked up the phone beside the bed. “Hey, it’s me. Guess who called?”
“Landor?”
“Brett, you idiot.” Heather laughed.
“Do you have a date?”
“We’re getting together for the signed copy.”
“Yes!” Adam shouted through the phone.
“Okay, gotta run. Need to get dressed.”
“Wear something nice,” he said.
“Don’t I always?”
“I guess, but if you really impress her, maybe she’ll stick around long enough for you to introduce us.”
“I can’t promise,” Heather said.
“Which part? That you’ll impress her, that she’ll stick around, or that you’ll introduce us?”
“All of the above. Hanging up now.”
“Later.”
Heather plucked an ensemble from the bed and hurried toward the bathroom.
“Call
me crazy, but she’s actually looking forward to your… date.” Jack laughed.
“Why is that so funny?”
“Who knew she’d want to give you a freebie?”
“And that has you giggling like a schoolgirl?”
Jack nodded. “I think it’s hysterical. Can you handle it, not having to pay?”
“How can you be bright enough to keep a job and still find something that stupid, funny?”
“I’m complicated.”
“I don’t intend to sleep with her,” Chase said.
“Maybe she has other plans.”
“She doesn’t.”
“Either way,” Jack said, “do whatever it takes to keep her away from the house.”
Chapter Fourteen
eather paced from the living room into the bedroom, pausing to check herself in the dresser mirror for the tenth time. Her hair was perfect, her makeup flawless, and the ensemble she’d selected would be appropriate attire no matter where they might end up. Black dress trousers, a bronze Neiman Marcus cardigan-shell set, and black two-inch heels, which would bring her up to Brett’s height. “Get a grip,” she said to her image. It’s only for a drink, and you’re never going to see her again.
When her bell rang, she jumped. Why was she so nervous? She buzzed Brett into the building and took deep breaths to calm her rapid heartbeat as she waited for her to come upstairs. But her hands still shook as she reached for the door to answer the knock. “Hi, there, come on in.”
Brett Coltrane looked even better than she remembered from the dark club. Dressed in jeans, a black turtleneck and leather jacket, she exuded an almost overwhelming strength. She smiled. “Good to see you again.”
“Can I get you something to drink, or…?” Heather asked.
“I didn’t make any plans, but I thought you might like to go out for dinner or something.”
“Oh.” Heather hadn’t counted on a prolonged evening with Brett. She was actually hoping to make it fast and simple. As much as she was looking forward to seeing her, she didn’t need any complications in her life and wanted to avoid a situation that might invite too many personal questions.
“I’m sorry if I was being presumptuous. We don’t have to, if you’d rather not.” Even the way Brett talked exuded charm.
“No, please. I just didn’t—” She couldn’t be rude. “I’d like that,” Heather finally said.
“Great. I’m ready when you are.” Brett handed her a small paper bag. “This is for your brother.”
Heather took out the graphic novel, wrapped in a protective plastic sleeve. She didn’t read them herself, but she’d bought enough for her brother to know this looked…different, somehow. The binding. She turned it over to look at the cover. It had next month’s date on it and the words Artist’s Proof written in small letters on the bottom right corner.
“I had the publisher print an extra proof,” Brett said. “The issue doesn’t come out for another couple of weeks.”
Heather’s brother would be beyond thrilled. She looked up at Brett. “Thank you so much. He’s going to scream when he sees it.”
Brett laughed, her low tone sexy. Heather had to look away for a second to make her brain work again. If she continued to stare into those amazing blue eyes they’d spend the evening in front of her door. She left the paper bag on the table and grabbed her coat.
“Here, let me.” Brett motioned for the garment.
Heather let her take it and turned her back. She could have sworn getting her coat on lasted for an hour. Like time stopped, and all she could feel were Brett’s slow, deliberate movements. Brett stood right behind her, and she felt the overwhelming need to back up until their bodies touched. She didn’t move until Brett put her hands on her shoulders.
“Ready?” Brett whispered into her ear.
Heather shivered. God, it had been too long since she’d felt anything but dread at someone’s touch. “Yes.”
When Heather trembled beneath her hands, Chase woke from the near trance she’d fallen in because of their proximity. Heather looked stunning tonight, and her perfume, an earthy-spicy blend, was intoxicating. “The cab is waiting,” she said abruptly, and headed out the door, suddenly desperate for fresh air. She held the cab door for Heather and slid in beside her.
As they pulled away from the curb, Heather turned to her. “I never asked, are you from New York?”
“Boston. But I spend a lot of time in the Apple.”
“Business?”
“Mostly, but the occasional pleasure pops up.” Why had she said that? Chase rarely came to New York unless completely necessary. She must, for some subliminal reason, not want Heather to think she was in any way special.
“I’m glad you could drop by.” Heather smiled.
“I always keep my promises.”
“But you could have mailed it.”
“Yes…I could have, but I didn’t.”
“So is this one of those occasions where you choose to combine work with pleasure?”
Chase grinned. “That’s yet to be determined. So far, so good. Of course you could turn out to be a homicidal maniac.”
Heather laughed. “Something tells me you wouldn’t be too intimidated if I were.”
“You’re right. I’m not easily overwhelmed.” Chase suddenly realized she’d been toying with her jacket zipper and immediately stopped. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d fidgeted with anything. She tried to force herself to relax and smile. “And I can run pretty fast if I have to.”
Heather glanced down at her feet. “Don’t let the heels fool you. You’d be surprised at what I’m capable of in these.”
“Impress me,” Chase replied, almost too seriously, before she could stop herself.
The cab pulled over and stopped and Chase handed the driver folded bills. A colorful array of shops and kiosks, lined up beneath long banners and signs painted with Asian script, cluttered the street ahead of them. Pedestrians crowded both sidewalks.
“Chinatown,” Heather said.
Chase slipped from the cab and offered a hand to help Heather out. “I’ve always rather enjoyed it. Is it all right?”
“I love coming here.” Heather smiled. “The chaos, smells, and near-panic on the streets make me feel like I’m in another country.”
“I thought we’d grab a bite here and walk around.”
“Sounds great.”
Chase realized before they’d gone fifty feet that walking with Heather was like walking with a parrot on her shoulder. Everyone stared. Men. Women. Children. Even the street vendors paused in their efforts to push souvenir fans and other knickknacks to the camera-wearing tourists. Heather seemed oblivious to all the attention. She focused on the scenery and on reading menus posted outside the restaurants they passed. Fragrant enticements wafted through the street—ginger and garlic, star anise and clove. Chase’s stomach growled. When Heather paused at another menu, she asked, “See anything you like?”
“I don’t mean to sound picky, but I’m a vegetarian.” Heather sounded embarrassed.
She almost stumbled. Well, that’s just brilliant. She doesn’t drink, she owns the Holy Grail of PEZ, and she’s a vegetarian. What next? “It would appear we have that in common,” Chase admitted reluctantly.
“And you don’t drink, either.”
“Correct.”
“That’s almost spooky. I know so many people and none are teetotaling vegetarians.”
“I know plenty,” Chase lied.
“Huh.” Heather looked at her skeptically.
They continued walking, neither speaking for a while. They were in the heart of Chinatown with its enormous sensory overload: the aroma of food, the vibrant colors, the crush of people, the confusing myriad of languages spoken and shouted all around them.
“Are you married? Divorced? Children?” Chase asked when Heather paused at another menu.
“None of the above. And you?”
“Serial polygamist.” There. She did it again. S
aid the first thing that popped into her head. Why was she trying so hard to turn Heather off?
Heather looked at her, her expression unreadable. “I see.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Not at all. How someone chooses to live their life is up to them. We all have our reasons.”
“I don’t need any reasons. I simply enjoy variety.”
Heather started purposefully down the street again. “Like I said, to each her own.” She sounded disappointed.
Chase double-stepped to catch up. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not. I’m just different. I like to believe in true romance and happy endings.”
“That’s very quixotic.”
“I guess,” Heather said, frowning.
“What do you do besides work to pursue that happy-ever-after?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. I meant what I said at the Cave. Between caring for my brother and trying to make it in the fashion industry, my schedule is pretty full and…dull.”
“No dates?”
“Not in a long time,” Heather said. “More than two years, to be exact.”
Chase didn’t doubt Heather’s romantic drought had to do with obligations and disapproving lovers, but she knew there was more. Heather was terrified of anyone finding out about her other life as Amber. Yet another thing she and Heather had in common. Both were unable to commit due to their secret lives.
Chase’s stomach rumbled again. “There’s a noodle place over there.” She motioned with her head. “How about it?”
“Sure.” Heather replied without enthusiasm.
“We can keep walking if you—”
“No, it sounds good.”
They walked to the small shop and Chase perused the posted menu. She thought Heather was doing the same, but when she turned she found Heather staring off toward the street with a faraway look. “Do veggie noodles with ginger and peanuts sound okay?”
“Yes,” Heather said, still distracted. “Thank you.”
“Would you like to sit here or walk?”
“Walk.” Heather’s mood seemed to have deteriorated and Chase couldn’t risk her saying she wanted to go back home. And, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t like seeing Heather upset.
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