Rockford’s office door was open. As planned, I stuck my head in, leaning on the doorjamb and sticking the tape across the latch plate as I addressed Rockford.
“Sir?”
He glanced up at me from a pile of paperwork. I noted that he used one of those old-fashioned paper desk blotters. Excellent. That would be my first target.
“CT Domino.” He didn’t look particularly pleased to see me.
“I just wanted to let you know that I don’t hold the camp or Torq responsible for that little mishap yesterday at the driving range.” I tried not to sound rehearsed.
He arched a brow and I continued, stammering over my words like I was nervous. Only I was way past nervous. I was fevered, totally high on adrenaline and epinephrine like a junkie who’d just injected. And surprisingly, I loved the rush.
“I have no plans to sue, sir. Just wanted to put your mind at ease on that point.” I gave the tape a little rub with my finger to make sure it was good and stuck.
“I’ve heard rumors that Torq is under investigation in the incident and I wanted to say that’s really not necessary and we should all simply put this behind us and move on.”
“You’re telling me how to run my camp now, CT.” He had a mean glare when he wanted to use it.
“No, sir. Just stating my opinion. I mean, no one was hurt. And the car was supposed to blow up anyway….” I watched him closely for a reaction to my statement that would either deny or confirm that suspicion. I should have known better than to expect anything other than stoicism.
“I’ll keep your suggestions in mind.” Rockford was dismissing me. In counterpoint to his words, his tone said I could go to hell.
The old, timid Jenna would have probably crumpled under the weight of that look. But Domino the spy flashed him a smile, gave the doorjamb a good-bye thump, and pushed off.
We’d rehearsed my little Rockford encounter and allotted an estimated one minute for its completion. I glanced at my watch again as I headed for the ladies’ room. Inside stall two, where we’d planted it the night before, I found a bag with my disguise.
I changed out of my tank top and bra, bound my breasts with a piece of athletic wrap that Emma kept for her bad knee, donned Ethan’s newly washed, stiff-from-being-line-dried T-shirt with the picture of a large pot leaf on it, and dropped my clothes back in the bag. I twisted my hair up into a ponytail, donned my food-handling gloves and my panty hose-leg hat, and held on to my bag.
Then I peered cautiously out the ladies’ room door. The main lobby was empty, as predicted. Lady Luck must’ve been on our side because today she was smiling. I looked at the security camera. Emma had accomplished step one of her part of the plan—she’d thrown a towel over the camera.
I waited for the alarm to sound, watching for my cue to dash—Rockford running by. And praying that Emma hadn’t experienced any problems on her end. I kept an eye on my watch. At precisely six after ten, the fire alarm sounded and I breathed a sigh of both relief and anticipation. Rockford ran by just a few seconds later. The minute his back was to me, I slipped out on little spy feet and headed for his office.
He’d pulled the office door closed, as we’d anticipated. We were so darn clever. I gave it a gentle push and it fell open, no problem. I grinned like Bond after he’d just seduced Largo’s mistress. Then I slipped inside and closed the door.
We figured I had maybe a minute and a half to two minutes to complete my mission. I headed right for his desk. It was annoyingly clean. So were his in and out baskets—empty. No accident report in sight. No list of campers’ registrations. Nothing! Did the man have to be so damn efficient?
Frustrated, I scanned the desk blotter. He’d written all over the top sheet. I crossed my fingers, hoping he’d doodled something useful on it as I lifted the top sheet from the two leather corners holding it down and removed the sheet just below it, stuffing the blank sheet in my bag before replacing the top sheet as it had been. I removed the second sheet from a scratch pad by his phone.
The wastepaper can was up next on my list. I peered in. It had been emptied recently and held nothing but a few used tissues and a candy bar wrapper.
I did a quick visual scan of the room, hoping maybe my camera would turn up. Nothing. Not that I expected it. If he’d taken it, it was probably in the safe. Which I tried. Locked tight.
I glanced at my watch again. I’d been in the office less than a minute, but I was already getting panicky flight-and-flee feelings. I pulled on every drawer in his file cabinet. Locked tight. His desk drawer held nothing but office supplies.
I heard the pitter-patter of grown-up feet dashing by the office door. I turned to go and caught sight of a slip of paper peeking out from beneath Rockford’s file cabinet. What was a Bond girl wannabe to do? I grabbed it.
“What …” It was a torn printout of a travel itinerary. Someone had been in Vegas last month. Unfortunately, the passenger’s name was ripped off, leaving me with only the flight times, dates, and destination.
Vegas? Don’t tell me Rockford was a gambling man. Must have been a vacation.
I stuffed the paper back where I found it and fled.
Less than five minutes later, having stashed Ethan’s T-shirt back in his pile of dirty clothes and ditched the papers in my room, I joined the group of CTs gathered outside under what shade they could find. To my relief, Emma had already joined them and stood with arms folded, shaking her head at the situation.
I called out to her, “Emma!”
She turned and waved to me.
“What happened here? Give me the scoop,” I said as I approached her. I tried hard to sound casual. Not easy when I was elated and high from our break-in caper.
“Some idiot probably pulled the alarm as a prank.” Disgust infused her voice. “It’s another stinker out here today and I’m wilting in this heat. Where’ve you been? I was getting worried. You all right?” Emma put a hand on my arm and looked for confirmation I hadn’t hit any snags.
“Great.”
Emma nodded and relaxed, dropping her hand. We’d thought of everything we could. I only hoped Max didn’t put two and two together.
The alarm stopped blaring. As several of us stood around speculating about who the dirty rotten culprit was, Rockford stormed out the front entrance and began barking commands. Torq followed on his heels.
“Line up, CTs.” Rockford carried the towel Emma had thrown over the lobby security camera. He held it out for us to see. “Someone here thinks they’re mighty clever. I’ll show you clever. Before we begin interrogating, anyone want to confess?”
Chapter Fourteen
No one was going to confess. Emma and I were ironclad, rock-solid, in lockstep, and no amount of torture was going to pry the truth out of us … I hoped. Everyone else thought it was all part of the camp scenario, just another spy game. For all they knew, Rockford had pulled the alarm all by his little lonesome just to rile us up. I’d give my fellow CTs credit, they were really into the spy game mind-set.
Rockford lined us up and marched us into the lobby. “The interrogation begins.” He flashed us his Mr. Evil grin, complete with a menacing sparkle in his eye. “Ladies first. Ms. Peel, follow me. The rest of you wait here for your turn.”
“Shit. What do you think he’s gonna do to her?” Ethan’s gaze followed Emma and Rockford out of the room.
“Prod her with electric shocks, probably.” Ethan was easy to goad. Imagining Ethan’s reaction if Rockford had indeed caught me-dressed-as-Ethan on tape and fingered him as the alarm puller gave me no end of amusement and kept my small mind from worrying too hard about Emma’s interrogation. I crossed my fingers she’d been careful with that alarm and real good at dodging ink.
I sat on the sofa, sandwiched between John and Max, observing the group dynamics, trying to pick up clues to unravel the mysteries of camp. Ethan sat in a chair opposite me. Pussy sat in a chair to the right of him with Q buzzing around her like an attentive, attention-seeking fly. I wondered if he’d
gotten into her tummy-control panties yet. Whether he had or not, she was definitely ready for him to buzz off. I think if she’d had a flyswatter, she would’ve whopped him a good one with it. I couldn’t say as though I blamed her. Just watching him gave me a longing for my deluxe electric bug zapper back home at Bond Girl Wannabe HQ. The rest of the CTs clustered around us.
“Rockford must suspect Emma.” Pussy smiled, full of knowing innuendo. Her eyes danced with malice, mirroring the glint of her mega-carat cubic zirconia necklace, but her voice was full of saccharine. “Why else would he call her in first?” Her gaze slid to me.
“'Cause Rockford has no clue who could’ve done the deed. He just picked Emma at random. Emma has no motive to pull a stunt like that. None.” I let my tone and attitude imply that maybe Pussy did, though.
Pussy gave a condescending laugh. “Who does have motive? Who do you think did it?”
“Maybe you did, Pussy.” I kept my tone casual.“You seem to love the spotlight.” I watched her reaction closely to see how she responded to a false accusation, thinking there could come a time when I’d be confronting her with what I believed to be the truth and the comparison could come in handy.
Pussy just shook her head and smiled. “Good imagining, Domino. Very creative, but sadly lacking in fact.”
Next to me, I felt John stiffen. “Rockford seemed certain he’d find the perp. Why don’t we let him handle this?” Poor John. He made a lame peacekeeper.
On the periphery of the group, Torq watched and grinned to himself before coming to the rescue. “To answer Ethan’s original question—Rock will shine a black light on you. If he sees ink …” He made a throat-slitting motion with his finger, looking at me as he spoke.
I experienced a momentary shock of anxiety, tempered by being peeved that he’d pointed the fickle finger of suspicion at me. Did Torq know something or was he just funning? Remembering his mind-reading abilities, I quickly glanced down and laughed to cover my fear.
“Fry’s going over the security tapes right now. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Torq said. “Whoever threw the towel over the camera should have left us a nice mug shot.”
Just then, Emma emerged from Rockford’s office, interrupting Torq’s mind games with a great big grin. She gave us the thumbs-up. We were in the clear. I had to fight to conceal my exhilaration.
“Domino, you’re up.” Torq pointed toward Rockford’s office.
“Do I have to? Why can’t Pussy go next?” I put on a pout. “I’m sure she has more to hide than I do.” I was only half-joking.
Everyone came up clean on the ink test. Disgusted, Rockford sent us to the firing range for our ten-thirty session. To tell the truth, I was a little disappointed in his interrogation skills … or lack of. I expected better from a former Special Forces guy. I mean, if he couldn’t make me crack …
It was all Emma and I could do to play it cool. I could see she was dying to know what I’d found in Rockford’s office. But information dissemination would have to wait. Fry and Torq presided as the ten of us took turns shooting at targets, five at a time, posed, arms locked in Rambo style, great big plastic earmuffs on to protect our hearing and make our ears sweat. Plus they rubbed uncomfortably on my Domino dangly earrings.
The firing range was outside in the open in the unrelenting heat. High temps generally made me irritable, and the sun was hell on my prized lily-white Seattle complexion. I was going through lotion and sunscreen by the gallon.
My turn came up. From the far end of the line of shooters, Torq was none too subtly eyeing my form—my shooting form. Whether he intended it to, his perusal cast a fluttery, warm-all-over spell on me, which threw my aim off. Okay, maybe my aim was never exactly on. Seeing my distress and lack of shooting ability, Torq came over to help me out. I took off my ear protection so I could hear him.
“A good marksman learns to control his breathing and pull the trigger between heartbeats to get the most accurate shot.”
Yeah, well, I didn’t say so, but I didn’t think that was going to work. With Torq standing within a ten-foot radius of me there was no space between beats. Much to my chagrin, my heart was in hyperdrive.
He took a long look at my stance and form from the top of my head, past my breasts, my extended, gun-toting arms, down my waist, over my hips, down my legs, and past my ankles to the tips of my curling toes. He was definitely trying to get under my skin. And damn him, despite my best efforts to the contrary, he was succeeding extraordinarily well.
“Lock your elbows. You have to hold her steady.” He held out his hand. “Let me show you the proper stance and grip. Here. Give me the gun.”
I handed it over and he demonstrated, firing shots off in rapid succession, hitting the target dead center every time.
“Wow, lethal.” I gave him the perusal right back. “You obviously have more self-control than I do.”
“I don’t have as much as you’d think.” He grinned and handed me the gun. “You try.”
I assumed the position as he assessed my stance.
“Let me just get you in the right position.” He stepped in behind me and wrapped his arms around mine, his hands covering mine over the gun. “There. See how good proper form feels?”
If he meant that proper form was him pressed against my backside, then yeah, it felt great. But it was a guilty pleasure and one I should definitely be wary about, ‘cause this could be another damn test.
“Okay, now pull the trigger. I’ll help you absorb the shock from the kick. Ready?”
Unfortunately, from my perspective, he was the shock and the kick. I nodded anyway and squeezed the trigger. We hit the target dead center. I couldn’t help smiling.
“See how easy that was?” His hot whisper teased my neck and ear and gave me an unexpected rush. He didn’t help matters any, either, when he whispered again, using an extra-breathy voice, “Want to try it on your own?”
“I don’t think I quite have the hang of it yet. Show me again?” I wasn’t being coy. Well, okay, I was trying to be a little coy. Payback, mind you.
On the pretense of adjusting my grip, he leaned down and whispered into my ear again. “We need to talk. Why don’t you stop by my cottage after dinner for a drink?”
My mouth went dry and I felt the telltale signs of worry—sweaty palms, adrenaline rush to the heart. Talk about what? That stupid, treacherous flirt test at the bar? A private apology would be in order there. About how I’d broken into Rockford’s office? About the weather? It made a colossal difference to my anticipation and enjoyment of the evening. Not to mention my strategy.
I was definitely going to go. No doubt about that. Might as well admit I was addicted to intrigue. I’d been craving a look around his living quarters. Or maybe more accurately, a snoop around his cottage to see what I could turn up. Not to mention my feelings toward Torq mirrored Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy’s toward Elizabeth—I liked Torq against my will, against my reason, and yes, even against my character.
But at least he waited patiently for my answer.
“As long as we don’t talk about me being a dead woman, I’m game.” I tried to sound nonchalant.
“Great.” He squeezed my hand. “Ready?”
We pulled the trigger together—bull’s-eye!
Fry dismissed class for lunch a few minutes late. Emma and I dashed back toward our rooms to “wash up.”
“You had it going on with Torq in class.” Emma gave a low whistle as we hurried down the hall.
“You think so?”
“I know so!” She looked genuinely astonished that I thought otherwise. “Looked to me like he wanted to take you right there on the firing range. Ethan and Bishop were taking bets on what was up with you two.”
“He asked me over for drinks at his place later.” I left out the “to talk” part.
She grinned. “You’re going, of course.”
“Natch.” I opened the door to my room and we both tumbled in.
Emma closed the door, unable
to contain herself any longer. “Can you believe we fooled Rockford? We got away with espionage! We’re brilliant, that’s what we are!”
“To brilliance!” I gave her a high five.
“Okay, what did we find?” Emma said, all expectance. “What did you get? I’m dying of curiosity. It was all I could do in class not to ask.”
I pulled the two papers from the drawer where I’d stashed them. “From his notepad and his desk blotter,” I said by way of explanation.
Emma grabbed a pencil and did a rubbing of the notepad first. It had a few phone numbers listed, but nothing else.
“His girlfriends, you think?” She arched her brow comically.
We both cracked up.
The desk blotter was covered mostly with doodles and notes that were hard to read, partly because there were so many imprints, and partly because they were evidently in Rockford’s personal shorthand and almost illegibly sloppy handwriting.
“Hey, look at this,” Emma said, pointing to a drawing she’d rubbed out. “That’s a diagram of the training room. And look at these arrows.”
I leaned in to inspect it. “It looks like an attack plan to me.”
She nodded. “I think we’ve discovered how the kidnapping is going to go down. They’re going to burst in on us in the last training session Thursday night and take one of us.”
“Yes, but who?”
Neither of us had the answer, so we simply stared at each other.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
Emma glanced at her watch and scooped up the evidence. “Don’t know. We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we’d better scoot to the cafeteria and eat. I have the feeling we’re going to need our strength.”
After lunch we met in front of the main compound building. We’d been instructed to wear sunscreen and dress for combat in clothes we didn’t mind getting dirty. Two FAVs done up in desert camouflage waited for us.
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