by Gennita Low
“Sorry, buddy. With someone like Vivienne, I think ‘fast’ is a must. She’s a runner.”
Jazz scowled. “Like you know.”
“I can spot them a mile away.”
“So your strategy is to run faster to catch her?”
Hawk leaned down and pushed the desk back a few inches. Jazz stopped it with one hand. “Maybe I intend to,” Hawk told him.
Jazz scowled as he studied his friend for a second. He hadn’t seen Hawk this motivated about a woman for a while now. It wasn’t a good sign. “I’m going to get her,” he announced.
Hawk wasn’t at all perturbed by the challenge. “How are you going to do that?”
He kicked the leg of the table lightly. “You’re the one who claims we share the same brain. Find out yourself.”
He recognized Hawk’s confident smirk and lazily grinned back. Usually, Jazz didn’t care to join in the chase of an attractive woman, especially when his friend was interested. He much preferred his own company and music. But Vivi Verreau was not a usual woman.
“Better hurry. So what did she say in her note?”
Jazz arched a brow. “Evil twin,” he mocked, “do I look stupid?”
Vivi climbed the stairs up to her apartment. Her landlady peered out from the third-floor landing and waved when she saw who it was.
“Late! Your boyfriend mad.”
Vivi grinned. She had no boyfriend. Mrs. Lee was always trying to set her up with one of the occupants in the building. A lonely man, she told Vivi, with a smug smile. Ripe for the picking. Never late with rent. Always cook for himself. Good potential husband material. Vivi found Mrs. Lee’s persistence humorous and exasperating.
“I have to work,” she told the old lady.
“Ah, see? You get him, you don’t need to work so hard.” Mrs. Lee wagged a finger at her. “Only need some children and then you set for life.”
Vivi choked back a laugh as she began to climb the staircase. “I think children are harder work, Mrs. Lee,” she called up.
“Ha! Throw them out on the street. Call them home for dinner. What so hard? Beat their behinds if they get in trouble. Make more children. They take care of the young ones.”
Vivi pulled her keys out of her purse. She had heard this litany of advice before. Mrs. Lee had six children, all of whom acted older than their age, all of them with a street education beyond their years. Vivi had never pointed out that Mr. Lee was missing from the picture.
As usual, she opted for evasive humor. “I think I’ll stick to my fish tank, Mrs. Lee,” she said and laughed. “I’ve only one fish left in there, and I’m still waiting for it to die.”
She heard her landlady snort as she shuffled off back to her apartment. Her voice trailed away. “Fish! She thinks fish is better than husband and kids. Something wrong with that girl.”
Vivi laughed again as she closed the door behind her. Fish were the best. No need to take them for a walk. No barks, mews, or screeches. And when they died one flush from the toilet took care of everything. No high maintenance. She turned on the light.
“Shit,” she said as she stared at her couch.
The figure lounging casually there stretched sinuously, leather-clad long legs in high-heel boots sliding with catlike grace onto the floor. The overhead light reflected the curly blond tresses, the glint of gold jewelry, the metallic gleam of the buttons on her jacket. Talk about something high maintenance…
“Shit,” Vivi repeated. “You’ve cut your hair.”
“Like it? Shouldn’t you be taking a break from wearing those cheek inserts? It isn’t good to have them on over a year. The shape of your mouth will change permanently.”
Vivi frowned. She resisted the urge to tongue the hidden wire that secured the brace in her mouth that made her upper bite slightly more pronounced. It was a simple little device often used by operatives, and a lot easier than wearing false teeth over her real ones.
She had worn one specially designed for her out of curiosity. Now it was almost a defense mechanism. Sometimes when she looked in the mirror, she kept seeing her old self…She quickly shook off the thought.
It was just like her operations chief to put her on the defensive within the first few moments of meeting. Vivi shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t think you’ve slipped into my apartment to give me beauty tips, T. What’s with the surprise visit?”
“You haven’t been debriefed for a while now and I was in the neighborhood.”
Vivi sniffed in disbelief. “You were busy on assignment in New York, last I heard.” She crossed her arms. “I may be living in the boondocks but I do keep in touch with the sisters, you know. They told me you’ve transferred out of COS Command and were temporarily unavailable to anyone, especially an Alex Diamond.”
Tess was studying the rings on her fingers. “The girls talk too much. I’m just taking a break so I can do more one-on-one debriefing in the field.”
Vivi had never seen her operations chief backpedaling before. Alex Diamond must be a special man. “I’ve been sending in my reports. There haven’t been any changes.”
“There’s going to be some soon.”
Here we go. T. never did anything without an ulterior motive. “Let me guess,” Vivi said dryly. “It has to do with a group of SEALs, a drug kingpin, and some young girls.”
“Right in one.”
“Tell me why you’re in town, T.”
“I’m currently residing at the Sofitel.”
Vivi raised a brow. “Nice. As?”
“I’m here enjoying a short holiday, darling. Part business, too. I might be negotiating a business deal in town.”
T. wasn’t just her operations chief. She also undertook some of the toughest assignments that GEM contracted, the kind that required the use of her ability to morph from one personality into another. For the past two years, T. had been in a special joint mission that involved arms dealing with some of the world’s most notorious figures. Vivi was sure that her presence in town didn’t just accidentally coincide with Dilaver’s upcoming arrival.
Vivi walked across the room to turn on the light over her fish tank. “So, I’m curious as to why you asked to be replaced at Center.” That was what they called the new HQ for both outfits. She sprinkled a little fish food into the water. “I was surprised when I heard about it. Tell me about Alex Diamond. Isn’t he the runaway COS commando whose duties you took over?”
A few years ago, T. had joined the team of covert commandos on a special program called Virus. Part of the reason was to avenge the death of one of their operatives killed by a bomb that had also taken the lives of several COS operatives. GEM had the ability to track worldwide money laundering whereas COS Command Center had the means to bankroll the covert operations. It didn’t hurt to have a group of well-trained commandos at one’s beck and call, either. The exchange of information had been hugely successful in creating a network to infiltrate international groups running illegal arms.
“You’ve been underground two years, Viv. Things change.”
That hadn’t escaped Vivi’s notice. From talking with fellow operatives, she had learned that GEM was slowly expanding from contract operations.
T.’s eyes were watchful, although she still lounged in that deceptively lazy manner. “Nothing’s changed at my end,” Vivi said softly. She hadn’t taken a break in two years because she hadn’t found what she was looking for, and T. knew how important this contract was to her. She smiled and shrugged. “But I can see it’s different at yours. There is this rumor that Alex Diamond, newly returned from the cold COS commando, is looking for you in a very personal way. Could the rumor be true?”
It was fun needling T. for once. She cocked an inquiring brow at her operations chief.
“Rumors have a funny way of being distorted. I don’t think a ‘very personal way’ would be how I’d explain it.”
Vivi noted that she hadn’t denied the rumor. “Do you think I should take a field position with these commandos you’ve be
en working with? If one of them could get under your skin, they must be pretty potent.”
In return, T. gave her a challenging smile. “It’s not enough you have two SEALs eating out of your hands, now you want my men too? Things have changed if you’re after military men, Vivi. I remember your…abhorrence of all things uniformed.”
As usual, nothing escaped her chief. “You brought up debriefing, yet you already seemed very well informed. Surely, you aren’t interrupting your hot romance just to find out about my love life?”
T. laughed as she got off the sofa, crossing the small living room in a few long-legged strides. A tall, striking woman, she had the confident walk of someone used to being the center of attention. One of the few things Vivi liked about her leader was her genuine enjoyment of her own beauty. It was also ironic that even though T. looked gorgeous in her various guises, no one had ever been sure about the real woman. When she had first trained under her, Vivi had often wondered about the many layers that had surfaced then disappeared, had tried to fathom how one could run around without a face of her own.
But that was years ago. She might never rise to T.’s level when it came to multiple identities, but like many of her GEM friends, she had learned to compartmentalize. She was also very aware that T. always prepared her operatives with subtle manipulation, as if she were playing a chess game and Vivi was one of her pieces. She watched warily as T. walked past her to the fish tank, with its one lone occupant.
“Poor little fish, all alone,” she said, tapping on the glass. “What’s the matter, you can’t afford to buy a couple more?”
“I’m waiting for her to die,” Vivi explained. “She’s obstinate as hell.”
“Ah, but loners tend to live a long, long time, darling.”
Little hairs of apprehension pricked Vivi’s awareness. “Is that right?” She kept her voice light. “I didn’t know you’re a fish expert now.”
T.’s finger traced the movement of the fish. “Self-confinement,” she said, darting Vivi a sideways glance, “especially in a controlled environment, makes things very predictable.”
“The fish will die eventually,” Vivi pointed out, refusing to take the bait.
“Stop feeding it and it’ll die quicker.”
Vivi canted her brows. “Are you asking me to kill my pet?”
“I was just offering a suggestion. You said you were waiting for it to die.”
“I have time on my hands.”
“What, another two years?”
“If it takes that long, then I’ll be here that long.”
“And of course, you’ll leave those cheek inserts in till your face is permanently disfigured.”
Vivi frowned. Somehow she had been manipulated back into talking about something she didn’t care to discuss. She had thought talking about Alex Diamond would get T. off her back. “We’re talking about my fish,” she said, a little too defensively.
“Artificially controlled environment, regularly fed, mateless, circling around in the same waters looking for something that’s not there…” T. ran her fingers through her blond tresses. “Of course we’re talking about your fish, darling.”
“Thanks for your concern about my pet’s lonely existence, but really, it’s just a fish,” Vivi said politely, hoping to sidestep the obvious undercurrent. “Let’s go back to the faxed documents with the new orders. Why are we doing a joint mission with SEALs?”
“Why not? We have a contract to extract a shipment of illegal aliens coming into the country, and Admiral Madison has been after Dilaver for a while. It makes sense to plan our operation together—we both get what we want.”
Vivi massaged the back of her neck. God, she was suddenly so tired. “We can’t win this war, can we? As long as there are men who will buy young girls as sex slaves, there’ll always be missing children and victimized kids.”
She knew she shouldn’t betray too much of herself when it came to T., but it had been a long time since she had someone to talk to. Her daily battle to find a safe house to take in young runaways and underage prostitutes in the city was only part of her own reasons to be there, and lately it seemed that every day was a fruitless battle.
“This is eating you up,” T. commented. There was a hint of worry in her eyes. “That’s why I’m giving you this new assignment. It’ll take your mind away from here for a bit. You’re giving up too much of yourself in the situation here.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Vivi countered, her voice sounding a little sharper than intended. “These girls have no one to turn to, T. They’re either married off or sold to these pimps. Or they run off without knowing what the world has in store for them.”
“That isn’t why you’re here, Viv.”
“I know my job. Do you have complaints about that?” T. shoved her hands into her pockets. The concern in her eyes had disappeared, replaced by a cool flatness. Vivi had seen that look before. T. specialized in a NOPAIN program called mind probe, a skill taught to certain operatives who were trained in interrogation. She had made the mistake of talking too damn much to her chief.
“Let’s hear your complaints first,” T. suggested as she came closer.
There was usually little escape when T. started one of these sessions. Vivi’s chin went up. “Well, I would like more action instead of collecting data on male military men detained and released. I would like to see the local government going after the gangs who kidnap these girls. I would like international laws going after sexual predators. All those would be a good start.”
“Do you think you’ve accomplished none of the above?”
“I haven’t seen anything encouraging.”
“So just because you don’t see it means nothing is being achieved?”
Vivi pointed to herself. “It feels like a losing cause and I don’t like it.”
“Making it personal can do that to you, darling. You get the urge to feed the hunger all the time.” T. surprised her with a light laugh. She pivoted toward the kitchenette. “I think we need some refreshments. This debriefing is turning out to be most enlightening.”
Vivi scowled. It was just like T. to go abruptly from subject to subject. She had to be on her toes all the time when T. was around. Fish, drink, makeup, and before one knew it, she’d gotten all of one’s little secrets. Vivi should know. She had been trained in NOPAIN herself. The one skill for which many GEM operators were famous—non-physical and innovative negotiation—and the woman checking out the contents of her refrigerator wrote most of the chapters in that book. T. was trying to gauge her weaknesses and probing for secrets.
“What do you mean, feed the hunger?” she asked, joining T., staring inside at the trays of wrapped leftovers on the shelves.
“Something personal always feeds something. Ego. Revenge. Memories.” T. pulled out a container, opened it, and sniffed. “Yum. Spicy. That’s what I need right now.”
“So you’re saying I can’t feed my hunger, whether it’s ego, revenge, or memories?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. Sometimes it’s good to use personal motive to get things done, but once it becomes a personal indulgence…” T. shrugged. She pulled some dishes from the cabinet. “It gets in the way of success.”
“We aren’t just talking about me, are we?” Vivi leaned a hip against the counter, watching her chief closely. She hadn’t seen her for a while, and for the first time noticed the little lines of tension around her mouth. “It’s this Alex guy, isn’t it? Let’s not pussyfoot around anymore. I’ve heard that you and he weren’t getting along at Center now that he’s back from the cold, that he pushed you out of your position. Is that true?”
If that was, it would be the first time T. had ever allowed another man to beat her. Vivi had never met any of these commandos, but had heard enough to know they were a different group of men.
T. spooned the food onto the plate and handed it to Vivi. “Needs to be heated, darling. I hate cold, stale food.”
Vivi crossed her arms. “C
hanging the subject, T. darling?” she drawled. This was the second time T. had avoided answering the same question.
“You want me to go personal, darling, you will have to try harder,” T. drawled back. “I suppose you aren’t going to feed me properly.”
Vivi pointed to a microwave oven in the corner. “Quick and easy.” She pointed to the oven. “Or slow and tedious. Which way do you want it, T.? Either way, you won’t get me to quit till I’m ready.”
“Either way, I’ll get my food done. And nobody’s asking you to quit…yet.” T. walked to the microwave. “Things are going to heat up really quickly and I want you to be prepared.”
“For what?”
“Five minutes ought to do it,” T. said, as she pushed some buttons. “How about a drink, hmm? You really are lacking in hosting skills.”
Vivi silently handed T. two empty glasses. Sometimes it was just easier to let T. play her mind games. She would reveal what was going on in her own time, and no amount of yelling would yield any difference.
She watched T. pour some iced tea into the glasses, studying the other woman as she moved around her small kitchen. She had lost some weight; her exquisite bone structure seemed more pronounced, emphasizing the hollows in her cheeks and the sensual fullness of her lips. She had always looked at T. closely, taking lessons on how to change her looks from the best in the business. Sometimes the slight changes were chemical-injected, other times it was just a different way of parting hair, but she had a feeling that T.’s physical changes this time weren’t self-induced. She waited until T. sat at the little dining table with food and drink ready.
“Not eating?”
Vivi shook her head. Best not to talk about her dinner plans. “I’m not hungry yet. So tell me about D.C.” Vivi pulled out a chair. Maybe changing tactics would loosen T.’s tongue. “I heard Operation Foxhole went beautifully. You’ve spent all these years going after Maximillian Shoggi. It must feel good to know we have him by the balls.”