by Dawn Ryder
* * *
Jenna didn’t like sleeping on her belly.
She rolled over and yelped before rolling another time and ending up going over the edge of the bed. The only problem with her landing was the fact that her knees felt like Jell-O. She opened her eyes wide as she waited to see if they were going to hold her up.
The shag carpet she was standing on kept her attention on her feet. It was long shag. The type that screamed seventies. Her toes were sinking into it, and she looked around the room to find it just as dated. The walls were an avocado green with wood paneling on one side. There was still a popcorn textured ceiling complete with gold colored light fixture.
“Vintage is the kind word to use.”
Jenna jumped. She blinked at the man in the doorway. He held position, waiting for her to clear more of the fog from her mind.
“You’re…” Jenna hesitated as the fog clung, but her attention focused on the badge clipped to his belt.
“Agent McRae,” he offered, moving forward and clasping her bicep. “You might want to take it slow. You had a wound that needed surgery.”
“Oh … right.” Her memory rushed back in like a wave crashing on the sand.
The impact sent her down onto a padded footrest as she recalled the gunfight and swim. There was a piece of white medical tape across her toe and a huge bruise on her shin. “Now that—” she lifted her leg and peered at her skin—“is some serious color.”
She heard a soft sound from Agent McRae and lowered her leg. “Sorry. My sense of humor is a little twisted at times.”
“Don’t be,” he offered as he pointed to the bedside table. “I’ll take a witness with humor over a weeping one any day. There are some painkillers sitting there for you. I suggest eating something first.” He pointed behind him. “Kitchen is that way.”
“Thanks.”
He turned and left. Now that her brain was awake, she realized she was in a hospital gown, the back of the thing being held shut with two ties.
But there was a neat stack of clothing on the dresser. She crossed the expanse of shag carpet, her toes sinking into it, and sorted through what was waiting for her. Jenna peeked around the doorframe before moving into it in search of a bathroom.
The fixtures in the shower weren’t any more modern than the rest of the hospital, but hot water was hot water and it made up for the calcium encrusted faucet.
Okay, not having her ass on display was a big step up, too.
A full-length mirror attached to the door gave her a good look at the bruise on her shin. It had plenty of friends, too. Her elbows were sporting scabs, and there were scrapes along her forearms and cheeks. The bullet wound actually looked pretty tame considering it had been made by a bullet.
You’ve been shot.
Welcome to the secret-agent club.
Okay, special agent.
Jenna rummaged through the drawers and found a hairbrush. Greer had been wearing a badge and a gun. What she’d realized on that dock was slamming into her now that all the excitement was over. Sure, she’d survived, but now? Well, that was the question alright.
What now?
Her belly rumbled, making her realize how hungry she was. Jenna caught the scent of toasting bread as soon as she opened the bathroom door. Her belly contorted with a demand to be filled.
Well, at least some things were just normal and fine.
She realized how undervalued those words were. Normal was really a lot more precious than she’d ever given it credit for being.
“Eggs and toast.” Greer slipped a plate in front of her. “Servant needs some rack time. Took us a good twelve hours to find you, another ten after that before the doctors released you.”
Jenna was distracted by the salt shaker. It was a little hen, the markings on it mostly rubbed off from use. “This is someone’s home.”
“The owner passed on two days ago,” Greer provided the information.
Jenna dropped the salt shaker.
Greer shot her a stern look. “It’s just a building. The stepson is itching to toss it to the house flippers so he can rake in the cash. He isn’t interested in the memories attached to that little shaker. Our team uses property like this because it’s harder to track us.”
“That’s sad,” Jenna muttered.
But she was starving, so she picked up the hen and used it before her eggs went cold.
“Everything ends,” Greer said.
There was a touch of remorse in his tone. Jenna concentrated on her meal because she didn’t want to think about the guy feeling sorry for her plight. Sure, it wasn’t fair but that didn’t change anything.
“Thanks…” It was an afterthought, that made her cheeks heat as she realized she’d been rude.
Greer shrugged. “Don’t sweat it. Your world is off-center at the moment.”
And he’d seen it before.
There was an ease in his actions, almost a bored acceptance of the situation.
Right, because he was babysitting.
“Servant will fill you in. For now, I’m on point. You need to stay out of sight, that’s why all the drapes are closed,” Greer said.
Jenna looked at the kitchen window.
“Stay away from the glass,” Greer warned her.
His tone was congenial enough but she still heard the warning to not test him. Her first encounter with the team flashed through her mind.
“I think we can skip the handcuffing to the bed part this time.”
Her comment was less than professional, but it earned her a flash of teeth from Greer before he turned and disappeared into the living room.
Eating took little time, giving her plenty of opportunity to realize how many little things in life she’d taken for granted.
It would seem that today, looking out of windows was something she wasn’t allowed.
Well, you’re not dead …
There was a definite positive core in that thought. It helped Jenna put a smile on her face even as her shoulder started throbbing.
She hurt … What a surprise to discover pain to be something to be thankful for.
* * *
“The girl is still alive.”
Kirkland faced off with Mack.
“It’s your call,” Mack informed his boss. He sent Kirkland a solid look.
Kirkland was thinking the matter through. “What do you think?”
Mack didn’t hesitate. “Leave her alone. She didn’t see you. The Feds would have already hauled you in if they had anything solid to tie you to their investigation. Keep your head down until after Carl is elected and can disband them.”
Kirkland looked at the YouTube video playing. It was popular with the viewers, the footage of the Coast Guard helicopter as it lifted two people off a small boat bobbing in the water. A real feel-good moment that kept people believing in fairy tales and happy endings. A real man made his own luck and never apologized for climbing over the bodies of the men who got in his way. They’d do the same if he wasn’t smarter and faster.
Life was a competition sport.
“Maybe Davis is doing what he promised,” Kirkland added. “Keeping that team off my ass. Keeping my head down will kill our profits.”
“He isn’t in control of the Shadow Ops yet,” Mack responded. “Better to play it safe.”
Kirkland grunted. Playing it safe was for pussies, men content to live their lives chipping away at a mortgage while they sat in rush-hour traffic, sucking the exhaust fumes of the rest of the slaves.
Kirkland was a king. He didn’t play by the rules, he made them.
“Carl Davis knows a lot of powerful people,” Kirkland replied. He moved around his desk and sat down. “Know something? That’s the only reason I put up with that cocksucker.” He tapped the top of his desk. “Let her be. At least until after the election. We’ll own the mortuary by then and can clean her up once we know Carl Davis has disbanded to Shadow Ops.”
* * *
Dare Servant was just as much of a ha
rd-ass as she recalled.
Somehow, Jenna had eased up on her thinking about the man.
Well that was a dumb-shit move to make …
He was back in command, somehow managing to transform the vintage living room into an interrogation cell. Jenna found herself looking at the sofa with its plastic covers and wondering about the family that had enjoyed it as a media hub.
“Ms. Henson?”
Dare cut through her distraction.
Actually, it was an attempt to avoid sharing the details of their evening with his team. Greer was watching from across the room, and there were two other agents eyeing her from different vantage points. She turned and shot both of them a look.
“This is unnerving.” Jenna decided to just say what was on her mind. “I feel like an exhibit at the zoo.”
“You didn’t seem to have a shortage of courage on that dock,” Dare remarked.
Jenna snapped her attention back to Dare. He was testing her. Tugging on her hair to see how she’d respond.
That’s nothing new …
“I don’t know what time it was when they attacked me,” She answered him. “Honestly, you had my house bugged, don’t you know?”
Dare was dressed again in slacks and dress shirt. He had a chest harness buckled over his torso.
She recalled him withdrawing that gun …
“We’re recording your testimony, Ms. Henson, not my mission statement,” he explained.
“I get that part,” she muttered. “But the only part that matters is when we left my house and you don’t know what happened. Why all the focus on what happened when you have video evidence?”
Her brain offered up the answer. They were testing her memory as well as her honesty.
“Fine…” She sat forward. “You … Agent Servant … arrived without invitation at about six in the evening. My friends accompanied us to dinner and then high-tailed it out of my townhome because you”—she pointed at him—“employed deception in the form of verbal language, telling them you and I were dating. Playing on the fact that my friend Sam is a hopeless romantic.”
Dare didn’t flinch. He was in complete control, facing her with a mask on.
Well … give as good as you get …
“You proceeded to take physical liberties, which crossed the line of professionalism as well as being immature enough to tell me it was my fault,” she finished up.
His lips thinned. “You kissed me back.”
“You started it … I finished it.” Jenna shot him a hard look. “And I wasn’t flashing a badge in your face, but if you’re saying I intimidated you … well … fine by me.”
He was back to undermining her foundation once more. His presence melting everything else beyond the pair of them and making her entire focus be only him.
“I took a shower, gave myself a stern lecture on not thinking about you, and went to bed.”
Jenna folded her arms over her chest and shot him a solid stare. The rest of his team was silent, waiting to see what he would do next. The fact that he was hesitating struck her as some sort of victory because Dare Servant wasn’t exactly the sort of man who suffered having his composure shaken very often.
He’s not shaken …
Well, maybe not, but he was at least thinking things through. She’d take what she could get.
“Let’s move to the docks,” Dare decided.
As far as a peace offering went, Jenna decided it was good enough for her. She turned her mind to the events of the night, feeling her heart rate accelerate.
That was stupid.
There was no reason to let it bother her.
Right …
“Would you recognize the man’s voice if you heard it again?” Dare asked.
Part of her was certain the sound of “the boss’s” voice was branded into her memory. The more logical response though was to question if she really could distinguish it from other men.
“Honestly, I can’t be sure. At least not sure enough to condemn someone on my say so. The spotlight was too bright,” she answered.
It sounded pitiful.
At least when she stacked up her gains against what she’d lost.
Which was still a gray area. Jenna sat forward. “My turn.”
Dare cocked his head to one side. “For what?”
“Questions,” she answered.
“You’re in custody,” he replied. “We ask the questions.”
“For how long?” She decided to just ignore his warning.
One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Need me to repeat myself?”
“No,” she said. “I need you to understand that I’m not going to just sit in my place. It’s your fault I’m here.”
“You’re not the first civilian to walk into the line of fire, Ms. Henson.” Dare had straightened and was facing her with his feet braced shoulder-width apart. “My team is not responsible for your arrival at Kirkland’s home. We were there in an attempt to keep a criminal off the streets you live on.”
“Right.”
Jenna stood up and turned her back on him. Sitting was driving her crazy, so at least the walk through the hallway kept her from screaming. The little vintage room didn’t offer her any further solutions though.
Not a single one.
* * *
“Being a little hard on her, aren’t you?” Greer spoke the obvious.
“That’s my opinion,” Zane offered before he turned and tapped in a line of passcode on a keyboard that was connected to a large portable screen.
“In case the pair of you don’t get it, our job is hard,” Dare responded.
Dare turned his back on his team but discovered himself facing Thais Sinclair. She had a habit of shifting into the shadows, one he was fairly comfortable with because it made her so very effective and he was one-hundred-percent convinced of her dedication to the team.
But her ability to appear like she could see straight into his thoughts? That was something he was having trouble dealing with.
Her eyes narrowed as she caught his guarded expression. “The job is hard … yes…” Thais shifted closer. “You’re reacting emotionally.”
Dare shot her a hard look of denial.
Thais only turned away, heading back to her workstation. Dare was left looking at her trim backside, the one that made men drool but for some reason left him cold today.
That was a new devolvement.
He didn’t care for noticing the detail and yet, wouldn’t let the fact go unnoticed.
Okay, he couldn’t ignore it.
Dare ended up grinding his teeth, frustration bothering him a hell of a lot more than it ever had.
He didn’t do personal.
That wouldn’t be changing, and Jenna wasn’t the type of girl to deal with friends with benefits.
Which was likely a good thing, because he was having far too much trouble detaching himself from his witness.
* * *
Miranda Delacroix had been raised with the press hounding her. She knew how to smile, the way to lock all her true feelings inside. And yet, she hadn’t allowed her political family to carve out her heart.
They had certainly tried.
Today she held her feelings on a tight rein. Carl Davis was edging closer to winning his bid to become President. Which meant she’d have to suffer him during certain events because she was also doing well in the voter polls.
“Miranda,” Carl Davis said warmly as he stopped next to her. He captured her hand and turned so the press got a good shot of them together.
He held her hand too tightly.
“So happy you could make it today.” Carl was looking at the press, using her popularity to plow his own path.
It was a facet of his personality that she was well acquainted with. Carl had tried to force her only daughter to marry him with the help of Miranda’s husband. Well, she’d seen to it that Damascus was free to marry the man she loved.
Not that Carl seemed any wiser when it came to trying to bend her i
nto supporting his ambitions.
“Of course I’m here,” Miranda purred. “It’s so good of you to join us at last. Arts in our schools is a long-time passion of mine.”
Carl’s grip tightened as he turned his head to send her a warning glance. “I’ve brought along a special guest who exemplifies the qualities your program aims to instill in our youth.”
“We cultivate creativity.” Miranda pulled her hand free.
The outdoor event was brimming with school-aged kids. They were clustered in groups wearing the same T-shirt as they enjoyed having a rare field trip. A huge stage was set up, the lights beginning to flicker as Carl sent Miranda a smug look.
“It’s my pleasure to present Kirkland. A creative genius.”
There was a cry from the kids that cut off Carl’s words. They surged forward, eager to greet the music artist as he arrived on stage with a flash of lights and blare of music. The press turned, moving toward the stage.
“Watch yourself, Miranda,” Carl warned her in a low voice. “Get in my way, and I’ll go through you. No one survives in Washington without playing the game, and I have a card in my hand you don’t want faced up on the table.”
It was a threat.
Miranda was used to them. Carl waved as he moved off to find more people to mingle with.
The right kind of people of course.
Miranda went on with making sure the program went on. Carl’s efforts would only help, even if she wished he’d stayed away. Unlike Carl, she was truly committed to making the world a better place. Her family might have been political royalty but she’d managed to keep her heart intact. Of course she’d had to keep it locked away where no one really knew her secrets.
Carl knew one secret though. He knew she’d fired the shot that had killed Jeb Ryland, her late husband. The Shadow Ops teams had sealed it all deep inside some file where no one would ever know.
Unless Carl became president and dissolved the Shadow Ops teams.
He’d still be a fool to do it. Exposing her wouldn’t be worth the amount of judgment from the Press.
The problem was, Carl had made rash decisions in the past when his temper got the best of him.
* * *
“Keep your witness,” Kagan informed Dare.
Dare’s fingers tightened on the phone. He rocked back on his heels, nearly giving into the urge to pace.