No Rules

by Starr Ambrose

  He hadn’t known that—showed how much free time he had for reading. He reached for the laptop. While Mitch and Kyle joked about the sexual innuendos behind beavers and snakes, Donovan put Jess Maulier’s name in the search box of a major book retailer and pressed enter. In a flash, a column of children’s books appeared, several of them claiming to be from the “award-winning series” or “acclaimed bestselling children’s author Jess Maulier.” He blinked at the hard proof of what had sounded like nothing more than a silly pastime. Jess was a respected author in her field. And a prolific one, judging by the string of book covers shown.

  “That one.” Jess spoke close to his ear and he realized she’d left her chair to lean over his shoulder and look at the screen. For a moment his senses were derailed by a light, flowery scent, and he was tempted to turn his head and sniff the hair that brushed his temple. He squelched the urge and focused on the finger she extended toward the screen.

  A slender finger, tipped with muted pink polish. Her skin was creamy, probably soft and warm. Delicate enough to be entirely engulfed by his hand if he…

  Oh, for fuck’s sake, he admonished himself. Keep your mind on the job and out of your pants.

  Stabbing at the mouse pad, he brought up the book she indicated and stared at the cover picture of a cuddly groundhog proudly decked out in a blaze-orange vest that proclaimed Mossy Log Meadow Safety Patrol. “Uh…cute.”

  Making an impatient sound, she reached past him and moved her finger over the mouse pad, opening the book to the copyright page, then the title page, then the beginning of the book. He did take that sniff then, surreptitiously inhaling the scent of spring that wafted from her hair and skin. He could have easily spent another minute absorbing her smell, but she moved back suddenly, and the loss snapped him back to reality.

  “There,” she said, and returned to her chair.

  He looked. And read.

  Gordon Groundhog was worried about a group of bullies who taunted him and his friends on their way to school. Donovan smiled at the drawings, captivated in spite of his cynical comments. Jess was a talented artist. Gordon’s friends were a trio of squirrels who appeared to be siblings. That called for more charming cuddliness, even if their names were a little too silly for his taste—Ginger, Cinnamon, and Nutmeg. The residents of the Mossy Log Meadow obviously liked themes because their friend the crow was named Pepper, and the bullies…

  Donovan’s mind skidded to a halt. Themes. Spices. Scary bullies lying in wait at the school. Something nagged at his memory. He tapped the mouse pad, skimming through the story. Authorities who didn’t take the threats seriously. A plan made by Gordon and his friends to handle it themselves. A bird friend who conducts aerial surveillance. Donovan flew through the story, no longer noticing the artistry as names and places began to align in his mind.

  “Evan.” The sharpness in his tone silenced the laughter from Avery, Kyle, and Mitch. “Remember that very first mission you and Wally coordinated? He told me you used code names for everyone involved.”

  Evan smiled. “That was his idea. On that first one, we were all named for spices. Pepper, ginger, stuff like that.”

  “Nutmeg and cinnamon.”

  Evan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “And you rescued a couple of oil-company engineers who were being held in an abandoned school building.”

  “Right, in Rwanda.”

  “And your CIA connection was able to give you information from satellite surveillance.”

  Evan nodded slowly. “So?”

  Triumph zinged through him like electricity, the thrill of cracking a code. “So Wally turned it into a story. And Jess turned your team into cute little animals and made a children’s book out of it.” He turned the laptop around so the rest of them could see the screen. “The Omega Group’s first mission has been immortalized as Gordon Groundhog and the Mossy Log Meadow Safety Patrol.” He couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the side of his mouth. “Evan, I believe you’re Gordon.”

  “Let me see that.” Mitch was out of his chair, crowding between Evan and Avery to see the laptop. Kyle leaned in from the side as Evan began skimming through the virtual pages of Jess’s book. Smirks slipped away, replaced by raised eyebrows and openmouthed stares.

  “Son of a bitch,” Evan murmured. His finger stopped tapping. One by one, they raised their heads to stare at Jess.

  She chewed her lower lip, looking nervous. “I told you my father helped with the story. I changed a few things, but basically he came up with the plot.” She looked between them. “Did I give out classified information or something? Is it bad?”

  “No. It’s good.” Donovan reached for her hand, because it was a good opportunity, and hell, why not? It was as smooth and soft as he’d expected, and she didn’t even pull away, caught by the earnest look on his face. “Jess, I think that story Wally told you, the one that was inappropriate for your series, is a blueprint for our mission. It’s what we’ve been trying to find. We simply need to figure out who’s who and what’s what.”

  “But…” She frowned in confusion. “How can a story about going to some beavers’ housewarming party relate to your hostages? They don’t even have beavers in Egypt.” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Do they?”

  “No. It’s a metaphor, just like the first one, which is why he mentioned that first book. He wanted us to realize the new story had meaning. We have to figure out what or who each animal represents. And you need to help us with the geography. Did Wally describe the places he talked about? Where the beavers built their new home, and how the animals were supposed to get there?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what the story is about, because it’s hard to get to and the rabbit is afraid of water…” She blinked, looked from him to Evan, and he knew she was already making connections in her mind. “We’ll need a map of Luxor.”

  “No problem.” Donovan shot a glance at Mitch, who was already heading for the door.

  Avery looked doubtful. “Are you sure we’re not grasping at straws, Tyler? You weren’t here for that first mission.”

  “But I was,” Evan said. “And he’s right. This story…” He waved a hand at the computer screen, shaking his head with a look of disbelief. “There are too many similarities to the real mission to be an accident. Right down to the bullies being skunks.” He smiled at Jess. “Was that part Wally’s idea?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t remember. It could have been.”

  “It would be appropriate. The group holding the hostages had a stockpile of chemical weapons, mostly tear gas,” Evan said. “That’s about equally unpleasant.”

  Donovan chuckled, suffused with a sense of victory. They’d found the key. They were going to figure this out.

  “I don’t get it,” Avery grumbled. “Why did Wally have to disguise it as a story that only Jess could figure out? I thought he didn’t want her involved in this part of his life.”

  Because someone in the group was working for the bad guys. But he couldn’t say that. “I agree, he went to a lot of trouble, and I don’t know why. Maybe we’ll figure it once we find the hostages.”

  “I just hope we’re not supposed to figure it out first,” Avery said.

  It sobered him slightly, but couldn’t take away his excitement as Mitch returned with a large map that he spread out on the conference table. It looked like something straight off Google Earth, a detailed aerial view of Luxor and the surrounding area. His gaze homed in on the Nile River skirting the western side of the city. “The beaver lodge is the destination in the story, right?” He looked at Jess, who nodded. “And it’s in the middle of a river, you said. Not a pond?”

  “No, he definitely said a river.”

  Donovan grinned and planted a finger on an island in the center of the Nile. “Something like this?”

  They all looked at the map and the island beneath his finger. Then at each other.

  Mitch asked, “Can it be that easy?”

  “Why not?”
Donovan replied. “Now that we’ve figured out what to look for, it might all fall into place.”

  Avery considered it. “Does that mean the beavers represent the hostages? Or are they the group holding them?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s figure it out. Jess?” He flashed a smile, the first genuine happiness he’d felt since meeting her. “Tell us a story.”

  It was almost funny. Jess struggled to keep a straight face. The absurdity of a former university professor and four highly trained former military operatives in serious debate over whether beavers were good guys or bad guys made it hard to take seriously.

  She knew more now about who the Omega operatives were. Donovan had given her a quick rundown of the team members’ backgrounds, each of them impressive. Kyle had been with the SEALs, Mitch and Donovan in the Marines doing black-ops work that he refused to specify. Avery had been in the Army. All had been dissatisfied with a lack of immediate, positive results. Each had ended up leaving the military, eventually finding that missing sense of satisfaction with the Omega Group.

  And now they were analyzing a children’s story like it was the most important puzzle they would ever solve. As improbable as it sounded, she believed they were right. Her father had had vital information to deliver, and like it or not, he’d used her to do it.

  She didn’t like it. But at least her part here would be over soon.

  “I think the beavers are the good guys.” Evan said it as seriously as any of her six-year-old readers might, and the others nodded solemnly. Jess bit her cheek to keep from giggling.

  “So what’s the gift the wolf and rabbit are bringing them?” Avery asked. “He must be trying to tell us to bring something along. Is it the weapons needed to bust them out?”

  Donovan raised his head to look down the table at Jess. “What did you say it was?”

  “A vase.”

  Avery wrinkled her nose. “How does a vase represent a weapon? Does it contain a bomb?”

  They all looked at her. Jess shrugged. “He specifically said the rabbit buys a vase and brings it as a housewarming gift. I thought it was stupid, too. In fact, he said an old vase at first, which is typical of how my dad always thought. Old things were precious in his mind, invaluable pieces of history.”

  She caught it even if they didn’t—she’d referred to Wally as her dad. When she remembered back far enough to the days before she’d become disillusioned with him and what she’d believed to be his lies, that’s who he was. Dad. She shoved the memory aside; it was too filled with sadness and regret to dwell on.

  “They take an old vase with them?” Kyle asked, obviously puzzled. “What good is that?”

  “I didn’t ask because I didn’t realize it stood for anything else. I told him kids wouldn’t identify with a vase, but I think he wanted—”

  “In his words,” Donovan reminded her.

  She rolled her eyes and sighed, but thought carefully before reciting as if it was a grammar-school lesson learned by rote. “I said, ‘Kids don’t care about vases.’ He said, ‘They might, especially if it’s old and valuable.’ I said, ‘It should be something like tender sticks the beavers might like to chew on,’ because that made more sense, and would provide a bit of education about beavers. He said, ‘Vases can be educational. It should be a vase.’ He thought everyone should be fascinated with ancient history. I said, ‘At least make it a new vase. Buying an old one doesn’t make sense, and kids are more likely to equate newness with value.’ And he said, ‘If you say so,’ like he was patronizing me. So yes, he insisted that the gift would be a vase. I have no idea why.”

  She crossed her arms and sat back, her part done. Evan frowned, thinking. Avery raised an eyebrow at Donovan. “You said this would be easy to figure out.”

  “Maybe it’s easier than we’re making it,” he mused. “Maybe it doesn’t represent something else. It’s a vase. But a special one, old. A certain ancient vase. We are talking about Luxor, Egypt, remember. The Valley of the Kings and King Tut’s tomb are right outside the city. The place is thick with ancient history. Maybe there’s a famous vase that represents the information we need. Like, where it was found, or where it’s kept now. That’s what all this is about—discovering a location. The location of the hostages.”

  “In a museum?” Kyle sounded doubtful.

  “Anything’s possible.” Evan nodded. “I’ll buy that explanation. It’s Wally’s style. But how are we supposed to know what vase he’s talking about?”

  “You were a professor working with Wally in Egypt,” Donovan reminded him. “I think this part is for you.”

  “I taught architecture, not history. I was researching a theory on the construction of the pyramids when we met. I don’t know anything about vases.”

  All five exchanged puzzled glances, eventually looking at Jess.

  She shook her head adamantly. “I have no idea. This is your puzzle; I’m just the messenger.”

  “Maybe you’re more than that,” Donovan said. “There’s some reason Wally involved you, Jess. Maybe you know more than you think you do.”

  It was the same theme he’d been expounding since he found out about her dinner with Wally, and she was tired of it. Tired of the Omega Group. Tired of reliving a two-hour chunk of time until her whole life revolved around it. “I’m a writer and an illustrator. I’m not a historian. If there’s a vase from some New Kingdom pharaoh’s tomb that’s of significance here, I have no idea what it is.”

  Donovan’s eyebrow quirked up. “New Kingdom?”

  “That’s what they call the era when Luxor was prominent in ancient Egypt. The city was called Thebes then, back when they buried all those dead pharaohs in the Valley of the Kings.”

  “And you just happened to know that?”

  She didn’t care for the interested looks from the five people gathered at the other end of the table. “So what? My dad was a fanatic on ancient Egypt, so yeah, a few things rubbed off. Me learning to recite the dynasties and the names of each pharaoh is the same as you memorizing batting statistics for the Boston Red Sox. Kids do stuff like that.”

  Donovan nodded. “Yes, they do. For me it was dinosaurs. I could identify dozens you’ve never heard of.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “While you learned the dynasties of ancient Egypt.”

  She narrowed her eyes, determined not to get sucked into their mission any farther than she already was. “I don’t know a damn thing about vases.” Unless he meant the canopic jars that held the organs removed from the pharaoh’s body…No, don’t say it.

  Donovan smiled as if he didn’t believe a word of it. Evan said, “We’ll see.”

  She didn’t want to ask what that meant. It meant nothing. She was going home to Houston ASAP. Home to her safe, predictable life.

  Mitch had been listening thoughtfully. “So the vase is probably a clue, and Jess might be able to figure it out. But I think you’re part of the story, too, Tyler.”

  Donovan was finally distracted from whatever he’d been planning that was sure to keep her from going home. “How’s that?” he asked.

  Mitch glanced around the group. “Come on, you guys didn’t catch it? Tyler’s the wolf.”

  Avery blinked, then chuckled. “He’s right. Wally always said you were a wolf.”

  “But that was in relation to…” He hesitated, with a quick glance her way. “Women.”

  “Yup,” Kyle agreed. “He said they couldn’t tame you. You devoured women like a wolf, but you couldn’t be domesticated.”

  Donovan looked uncomfortable but considered it. “So what’s that mean?”

  “If the wolf takes the rabbit to the beavers’ lodge, maybe it means he wanted you to take the lead on this mission.”

  Donovan didn’t appear to have any objections to that interpretation. Maybe he had some special skills that would help in this case.

  “So who’s the rabbit?” he asked. “Avery?”

  “Why me?”

  He grinned at her. �
��Because I don’t think Kyle or Mitch would make a good rabbit. It sounds too soft and fuzzy.”

  Avery frowned. “Wally wouldn’t do that to me. I’m not some fuzzy little bunny rabbit.”

  Jess believed it. There was a hard edge to Avery that didn’t fit with the image of a cute little bunny. No one in the group did. She didn’t know what her father had been thinking, because no one here reminded her of a bunny rabbit.

  A bunny rabbit. Her thoughts screeched to a halt. No, it couldn’t be.

  Images rose from the place where she’d tucked them away, deep inside her mind. Happy, laughing memories, some of her very earliest ones, of her and the daddy she’d adored. Her dad would rub her hair fondly and use his favorite nickname for her, the one she’d insisted he drop after one of her kindergarten friends had made fun of it.

  Donovan’s curious voice cut through the wild cyclone spinning in her mind. “What’s wrong, Jess?”

  She raised her horrified gaze to his. Taking a shaky breath, she tried to talk and felt the words stick in her throat. She swallowed and licked her lips. “He called me Bunny.” It was barely a whisper, but they all heard it, and stared. “When I was very young,” she explained. “My dad called me Bunny. It was an endearment. A nickname, but I got teased about it and hated it, so he quit using it. Oh, shit,” she groaned, “I don’t want to be the rabbit.”

  Donovan stared at her, no doubt remembering the story as she’d recited it. The timid, scared rabbit. The wolf she feared but had to trust to take her to the beaver’s lodge. They both knew how well it fit.

  Evan took a decisive step back from the table. “Pack your bags; you’re all leaving for Egypt immediately.” He looked at her. “Jess, you, too.”

  Evan strode from the conference room. Mouth agape, Jess stared after him, then at the three members of the rescue team who were ignoring her as they rolled up the map. In five seconds, everything had changed. Mitch, Avery, and Kyle were already discussing how they would alter their cover story to accommodate her presence, as if they took it for granted that Evan could knock her serene world off its axis with a simple order and send her flying off to Egypt.