Butterfly Ops

by Jen Doyle

  Lyndsey dropped her bag down on the bench and leaned back against the cool metal row of lockers, taking in a deep breath of air as she closed her eyes. This whole meeting thing wasn’t her strong suit, as had just been proven again. She hadn’t been kidding when she spoke to the team and, apparently, having Ian involved did nothing to up her game. Being a part of the whole strategy and planning part was all well and good, but ten out of ten times, she’d rather be hitting something.

  The door to the locker room opened and Lyndsey straightened up to see Ana Rodrigues, the other woman who’d be going out into the woods.

  Ana nodded as, after a slight pause, she came further into the room and put her own bag down. “Welcome,” she said. “It’s good to have you with us. The Colonel speaks highly of you.”

  Yes, well, Lyndsey would definitely hope so. “Ian?”

  “Colonel Lee,” Ana corrected, looking a little confused. Then she smiled. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  Uh, hello? Lyndsey sat down on one of the benches. “Excuse me?”

  As if it were the most innocent question in the world, Ana repeated, “I asked if you were sleeping with Colonel Lee. Matt.”

  Matt? Really? “Isn’t that kind of…personal?” Personal, as in a lot more blunt than Lyndsey had been ready for, despite the conversation she’d just sat through.

  Ana shrugged. “I like to know what I’m dealing with. I find that when members of the team are together, it affects the group’s dynamics. Judgment, too. If that’s going to happen, I want to be prepared.”

  Great. Heart sinking, Lyndsey asked, “Does the rest of the team prepare the way you do?”

  “The rest of the team runs on testosterone. They prepare by bench-pressing several hundred pounds.” Already in workout gear, Ana reached into a locker. Then she looked at Lyndsey expectantly.

  Lyndsey reached into her own bag and, well, moved things around in a very deliberate and important way. Damn, these people threw her. “Why would you think there was something between Matt and me?”

  Ana gave Lyndsey a shrewd look. “As I said, he’s spoken of you often over the past week. It’s unusual for him; you appear to have made an impression.”

  Lyndsey just barely managed to hold back her snort. Talk about an understatement. “I’m sure I have. But I don’t sleep with married men.” She slipped off her shoes and started to undress. Ana clearly had the context wrong, however. So, well, here went nothing. “And Ian? Does he say anything?” Ana did have a point, after all. Plus, she was kind of curious.

  No, make that very curious.

  Sitting down on the bench across from Lyndsey, Ana gave a wide grin. Message received. “He doesn’t, actually.”

  Lyndsey knew she shouldn’t be bothered by that. Was it horrible that he was just being extra professional about everything? But she couldn’t help it. So, yes, it was certainly nice to know he’d been in a good mood because of her, but she would like to think she’d made enough of an impression for him to at least mention her name.

  Except then Ana added, “But he kind of snaps to attention whenever Matt does.”

  Okay, then, Lyndsey thought, unable to control her smile. That was a little better.

  Ana turned away for a minute, reassessing the playing field, apparently. Then she turned back and nodded. “Thank you for trusting me. That information won’t be shared.”

  “I, um…” Lyndsey pulled a tank top and a pair of loose fitting pants out of her bag. “It’s not entirely a secret.” At least as far as she could tell, which, admittedly, wasn’t as far as it could be.

  With a shrug, Ana said, “Regardless, no one will hear it from me. My wife and I met while serving under Colonel Fox and he respected our privacy from day one. I’m happy to return that favor.” At Lyndsey’s lame attempt at not looking surprised, Ana’s eyebrow went up. “Is my being gay going to be a problem?”

  This woman certainly didn’t pull her punches. Well, okay then. “Sorry. I was actually wondering more how that worked, what with Ian being all, rah, rah Army guy.”

  Cocking her head in a you’ve-been-together-how-long? kind of look, Ana said, “And that means he wouldn’t be supportive?”

  Nice, Lyndsey. Stereotyping all around.

  “The day after Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed,” Ana was saying, “he was at the courthouse with us.”

  Of course he was. “He’s a good man,” Lyndsey said, quietly. Too good, came the nagging voice in her head. Better than you deserve, considering the mistakes she’d made that led to their break up all those years ago.

  Lyndsey stood up and started unbuttoning her blouse. Modesty made her turn her back to Ana; concern about whether Ana thought it was because Lyndsey was uncomfortable in the locker room made her start to turn back.

  Taking pity on her, Ana suppressed another smile and averted her eyes as she fiddled around with things in her locker while Lyndsey changed. “It will be hard for him, being partnered with you. He doesn’t go out much in the field these days; and when he does, he’s usually with one of the newer guys.” She leaned back against the lockers as Lyndsey straightened out her tank top and lifted her foot up to the bench to tie her shoe. “He tends to avoid pairing up with anyone there’s any kind of emotional attachment to. I think it reminds him of Abby.”

  “Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to Lyndsey that might be an issue, but it did make sense. Abby had died while out on a mission, after all. She finished one shoe and started on the other. “Did you know her?”

  Ana shook her head. “I know of her—we all do. Actually, only a few of the guys worked with her—Sprague, Brooks, a couple of the others. They don’t talk much about her, though. Don’t talk much about any of the ones who are gone in fact. They’re superstitious that way.” She stood up. “You ready? I’d watch out for Brady—he’s good, but he plays dirty.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” Lyndsey smiled. “Where to?”

  Among the last to enter the gym, Lyndsey scanned the room, well aware of the attention she was getting even if most of the men seemed to be deliberately not looking at her. With relief, she saw Ian leaning against the wall on the other side of the gym. For a few moments there she had wondered if he was going to come down at all. He had mentioned in passing how much he hated this place, how it was haunted by Abby’s ghost, although he hadn’t explained why. Add that to how irritated he’d been at the end of the meeting, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d chosen to stay away. He hadn’t, though, and after all of two seconds of thinking about it, she went over to him. “He’s worried about you. You’d do the same for him.”

  Ian’s look told her he was still angry, but Matt came over before she could respond. “You still pissed at me?” he asked.

  Ian’s silence answered the question for him.

  “Good.” Matt folded his arms across his chest. “Take it out on Lyndsey.”

  “What?” Lyndsey asked at the same time Ian’s eyes narrowed.

  Leaning his shoulder against the wall, Matt focused on Ian. “The team needs to see what she can do. I don’t want them holding anything back—which they’ll do unless they see you pounding on her.”

  “Or trying to,” Lyndsey said, earning glares from both men. “Just saying…”

  Matt looked back at Ian. “And it doesn’t hurt to remind them of what you can do, too. It’s been a while since they’ve seen you in action.” Over Ian’s objection, Matt added, “O’Hara’s doesn’t count. You don’t go for blood there.”

  O’Hara’s being the off site gym the team also worked out in, as Ian had told Lyndsey earlier in the week.

  Matt gestured at the mats. “It’s not like you two haven’t done this before.”

  “Actually…” Lyndsey started to say as Ian’s eyes met hers. Her voice caught in her throat; she practically choked on it, in fact. Because it was like that, as it turned out.

  They’d never fought each other before; not for real. Back when they’d been together—back before everything fell apart
—they’d only barely begun to discover what the other was capable of. After the day she’d saved a young girl at the beach—thereby blowing her secret entirely—Lyndsey had let him in on her whole super strength thing. And well, he’d begun to figure out he had some super-type things going on himself. Like being almost as strong and fast as she was despite him being 100% human. They’d even begun to play at testing each other a little bit—a more aggressive than usual sparring match here, an all out race around the track there. He’d never come out and told her he’d realized he was getting stronger and faster, but he’d clearly been trying it out.

  The closest they’d ever come to a no holds barred, lay-everything-on-the-table fight, however, was that Halloween night—and the weapon she’d chosen then was words.

  After that, well, she’d seen Matt fight once or twice—they had, on occasion, been involved in the same skirmish, albeit rarely on the same side. But those had never been death matches. The only time they’d ever come close to drawing blood, he’d drawn a gun on her; which, as far as she was concerned, meant he knew he couldn’t come close to matching what she could do. She had to assume Matt had gotten better over time and Ian was at least as good. But beyond that, she couldn’t honestly say she had a clue of what Ian would be like in the ring. She supposed she was about to find out.

  As Lyndsey ducked her head, Ian was the one to answer Matt’s question, giving a brisk, “We’ve never fought before.” And then, much more quietly—and kind of heartbreakingly, “Not like that, at least.”

  “Really,” Matt said, watching them closely. “Well, then. I guess this will be a learning experience for everyone.” Then he waved them onto the mats and walked away.

  Lyndsey preceded Ian to the middle of the floor, wishing she could read his thoughts. He certainly wasn’t making it easy. His face was entirely blank, eyes unreadable. It was a little unsettling, truth be told.

  But from the skeptical looks on most of the surrounding faces, it was clear Matt was right; they needed to see what she could do. “How do you want to start—?”

  She suddenly found herself lying flat on her back thanks to him kicking her legs out from under her.

  So they were playing dirty, were they?

  She sprung up, a slow smile coming over her face. “That wasn’t very nice.”

  He shrugged and grinned. “There’s no way I can beat you.” He threw a punch that she easily blocked; then another she didn’t. “But I’m not making it easy.”

  She smiled, placing a punch of her own. The crowd fell away, and for a few minutes, it was only the two of them—testing each other, feeling each other out. He was good—much better than she’d expected. He was more patient than she was, watching for openings, waiting for a pattern. When he did hit, his punches landed hard, and, as much as she hated to admit it, delivered a fair amount of pain. And if he was worried about hurting her, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Whether that was because he’d seen enough over the last sixteen years to know he had to look out for himself or because he’d become quite clear on what her body could do over the last week, she wasn’t sure.

  Nor did she care. It made it a lot more fun.

  “We should do this more often,” she said, in one particularly close moment when she had him pinned on the floor.

  “I’m game.” He flipped her onto her back; leaned in, his face only inches from hers. “Rather not have an audience, though.”

  “No.” She was breathless from both the exertion—more than she’d expected right off the bat—and the nearness of him. She’d forgotten how intense this was, how exhilarating it could be. His body covering hers, arms and hands all over... “No audience.” She pushed him off and scrambled up, distancing herself.

  What he’d said was right; he couldn’t beat her. Not physically. He was doing a hell of a job on the mind games, however, his words throwing her off balance from the start and then building upon that by playing on her one weakness: a scar he happened to know quite well, brushing it, breathing on it. Making this fight physical in more ways than one. Nothing overtly sexual—he was too smart for that. Not even personal. It was a means to an end; finding her weakness and exploiting it. The way he kept winning; the way he had survived for all these years.

  She swung at him, harder than she’d intended, realizing she had been holding back, even though she’d been telling herself not to. He fell back, rubbing his jaw where she hit him, but smiling as he did so. His eyes conveying his thoughts clearly—‘finally’—he came at her with renewed energy and drive, using force and speed she hadn’t known he had in him. Though they still weren’t equally matched—they never would be; her DNA had made him stronger but she had the pure, unadulterated deal—he was definitely a challenge. A refreshing, stimulating challenge. She was sorry when Matt stopped them and pulled them off the mat.

  “I would have liked to go another few rounds,” she said as they stood to the side, both struggling to regain their breath as they watched the next pair.

  “Speak for yourself.” He laughed and gingerly stretched his arms over his head. “Haven’t done that in a while.”

  She smiled, although for some reason her heart wasn’t entirely in it. “Your men will have no qualms following you into battle.” If it came to that, which she distinctly hoped wouldn’t be the case, but one never knew.

  “Or you,” he added. “I’d say any doubts are taken care of.”

  “Mission accomplished, then.” So why was she feeling this still wasn’t finished?

  Quietly, he answered, “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Ian…”

  He held his hand up and looked at her. “I know. I get it—Matt was right. I’m not going to fight it. Okay?”

  Well, yes, except, “I was just going to say I do better when the back I’m watching is one I care about.”

  “Funny,” he said, with absolutely no lightness in his voice. “I got the impression you did better when the back you were watching was one you thought could hold his own.”

  “I…” Damn it. She looked away, thinking she’d been able to hide that better. “I’m sorry. I…”

  Oh, she sucked at apologies.

  “Didn’t realize I was any good?” he asked, a smile in his eyes.

  Had she been that obvious?

  She shrugged. “Um… Maybe?”

  Rather than act offended—or defensive, for that matter—he straight out laughed. “I have managed to keep myself alive for a whole sixteen years, you know.”

  Yes. Clearly. She was slowly getting used to that part. It did nothing to stop her from wanting to protect him, however. But since she knew how bothered she got when anyone felt the same about her, she kept her mouth shut.

  Ian looked down at her for a second then back up at the two men who’d followed them on the mats. “I’d just prefer it if everyone was a little more confident about me making it out of this alive.”

  Lyndsey looked away. Although she hadn’t been quite as up front about it as Matt had been, she definitely had some concerns. No way in hell she was going to mention that, however. So she gave the most nonchalant shrug she could manage. Then she turned and—completely by accident—brushed her hand against his arm.

  Okay. So maybe not completely by accident. “You might have to prove it to me again.” She leaned in closer. “Except maybe somewhere a little more private.” After all, being close to him wasn’t the worst of things.

  Ian didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he moved in even closer, so much so that she could feel the heat from his skin. His smile grew broader. “I think I could manage that.”

  Well, good. The smile on her face matched the one on his as she attempted to shift her focus to the men in front of her rather than the one next to her.

  She mostly managed.

  4

  When Lyndsey emerged from the locker room, all showered and clean, Ian was waiting for her. He’d been leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, but he straightened up as she came closer. “Ready?”

&n
bsp; To spend the evening hanging out with his family? Was there something wrong with her that she felt a lot more comfortable on the mats sparring with soldiers, some of whom had originally been trained to kill her? “As I’ll ever be.”

  He surprised her by taking her gym bag from her hand—she was usually the one who did the heavy lifting; she had almost zero experience with anyone carrying something for her. He had to actually give her a little nudge to start walking.

  He was clearly in a better mood, which was good. What wasn’t good was that it hadn’t had quite the same affect on Lyndsey. It was more the opposite, in fact. She wasn’t quite sure if her unease was because of what Tessa had shared in the meeting or because of the dinner with Ian’s parents and kids. She stole a glance at him as they passed the courthouse and walked up the hill, working their way through the throngs of people walking home from work on this beautiful July day. She hadn’t realized she was frowning until he looked down at her, the grin on his face fading.

  He cocked his head. “Everything okay?”

  She thought that maybe part of the problem was that it had been a long time since she’d felt so uncertain about anything having to do with a man—over sixteen years, in fact; up until this past week, at least—and she didn’t like it one bit. She wasn’t even close to being ready to admit that to him, however. “So that was…fun.”

  Not that she was lying completely. It had been fun. Exhilarating, actually—spending the afternoon pounding on fellow demon-hunters tended to be a fairly decent stress-reliever. She’d known that part of things would be fine; she’d always been more comfortable showing what her body could do than explaining it. But seeing what they could do was, perhaps, a part of the problem.

  She hadn’t expected Ian and Matt to be so good—to be truly challenging even given the connection they all shared. They, of course, had been the ones who had gotten the drugs developed from her DNA back in Sausalito and it showed. They were definitely still stronger and faster than the others, even though Matt had said at one point that the drugs were supposedly fully out of their systems.