by PM Kavanaugh
“If you enjoy heat,” Nino added. “Forty-six degrees before noon.”
“It gave us an excuse to eat ice cream after the ceremony.”
Gianni turned his head toward her, a spark of shared memory lighting his eyes. “Cioccolato e nocciola.”
“You remember,” Lena said.
“Of course, tesoro.”
For the rest of the dinner, Vasquez asked about the Bianchis’ other assignments. Clearly, he had conducted his own intelligence into their backgrounds—or at least, the intelligence U.N.I.T. had fabricated for their covers. He interspersed open-ended questions with more directed ones, sprinkling in the occasional false detail that they corrected. Although his posture was relaxed, with one arm slung across the back of his chair, Vasquez’s gaze remained alert, wary.
Lena and Nino took turns speaking.
At first, Anika rushed Lena’s words, like a debriefing she wanted to wrap up in a hurry. But Gianni slowed her down with small interruptions and gentle knee-nudges under the table. Soon, their responses took on an easy, intimate rhythm.
Nino waited until the server had removed the last of their plates before he steered the conversation back to the reason they were here. “When can we review the floor plans, alarm codes, security team details?”
Highly secretive, Vasquez had refused to provide details of Tobar’s location, security protocols, or itinerary until they were face-to-face.
“Sí, sí, I have all of that ready. You can conduct your review tomorrow.” Vasquez waved his hand in the air as if dispelling an unpleasant odor. “Also, I am returning your handhelds to you.” He set the devices, confiscated as soon as they had arrived at the residence, on the table. “Thank you for understanding. The head of my security team is very cautious. As you said, the devices are clean. Nothing on them. Not even a souvenir vid.”
The questioning tone in his voice made Anika wonder if it had been a mistake to omit all details from their covers’ lives.
“We are every bit as cautious as your head of security,” Nino said. “And thank you for your understanding.”
A moment of silence stretched into long, uncomfortable seconds. Anika’s breath grew shallow.
Vasquez smiled and broke the tension. “De nada.” Girlish voices sounded from the hallway. He turned his head in that direction, saying, “Ah, here they are.”
Two young women, their arms linked, sauntered into the dining room. They were tall and striking, with impossibly elongated torsos and limbs. They reminded Anika of the paintings by Amedeo Clemente Modigliani, the Italian artist she had admired in her high school art class. If Modigliani had painted super models. The women’s summer-white sheath dresses were the length of a nanometer and afforded the viewer an impressive length of tanned legs. With enormous dark eyes, sky-high cheekbones, straight noses, and full lips, they were mirror images of each other, except for their hair color: one blond, one brunette.
“Suzette, Claudette, come meet our guests.”
They approached Vasquez at the head of the table and perched on the arms of his chair, one on either side, human bookends. The blond draped her slender arm around the back of his neck. He ran a street-toughened hand from the brunette’s knee up her bare thigh. The women’s eyes were glassy and vacant. They didn’t say a word.
Vasquez looked at Nino. “French imports. From Paris. Muy guapas, ¿no?”
Nino glanced around the room, appraising the handsome decor of gray and brown stone walls, wooden beams, and bronze statues of warriors. He lifted his wineglass. “You have excellent taste. In everything.”
Vasquez bowed his head in silent appreciation. “The chicas and I usually take a swim after dinner. Join us. There are extra swimsuits in the cabana, if you feel the need.” His gaze crawled across Lena’s eyes, lips, breasts. Stopped. “We prefer to go without.”
Anika pressed back into her chair, trying to create distance from their host. She didn’t know how to respond. The invitation, more a command, repelled her. The look in Vasquez’s eyes even more so. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. But maybe his invitation was a test. What would Lena do? She steeled herself to say “yes” and pushed her chair away from the table.
Nino stood. “Perhaps we’ll join you in a bit.” He took Lena’s hand and helped her up. “After we’ve had time to digest your delicious meal.”
Vasquez gaze switched to Nino. The two men remained motionless, each waiting for the other to break the silence. “As you wish.” Vasquez dipped his head. Anika released a quiet breath of relief. “There’s rum, mezcal, whiskey in the bar in the living room. Also, a one-hundred-year-old cognac that is almost worth its outrageous price. Please feel free to help yourselves.”
“Thank you.”
Nino and Lena walked down a set of shallow stairs that led into an adjacent room. The stone wall along one side projected rotating scenes of the kind of naturescapes now mostly found only in a virtual world—open fields of wildflowers, long stretches of beaches, snow-capped tops of mountains. At the room’s far end, flames leapt in a giant fireplace. The fire was for atmosphere only as the breeze blowing in from the open windows was mild. Even in December, the daily temperatures here were noticeably warmer than New Angeles. That would make their nighttime assault on the target’s residence easier. No need for cold weather gear.
Nino filled a snifter with the expensive cognac and offered it to Lena.
Anika took a cautious sip. Though she had been exposed to a wide variety of beers, wines, liquors, and rec-drugs in her training, she hadn’t managed to develop a taste for cognac, no matter how expensive it was. The liquid created a trail of dying embers inside her mouth and down her throat.
“Do you like it?” Gianni asked.
Anika shook her head.
“May I?” He swirled the liquid in the bowl of the glass before sampling it. “Hmmm. A predominant blend of chocolate, toffee, and...” He took another sip.
“Clove,” Anika said.
“I agree.” Gianni lifted a brow. “Impressive.”
A warm glow suffused her.
Rhythmic sounds of guitars, flutes, harmonicas, and drums floated through the room, while shouts of laughter and water splashing came from outside.
Nino wrapped one arm around her waist and swayed to the music. His touch magnified the glow from the alcohol. “You saw the cams?” Gianni asked, his mouth brushing against her ear.
Anika recoiled at the coolness in his voice. Such a contrast from the heat of his body. The glow inside her dissipated. While she hadn’t seen any surveillance cameras in this room yet, based on what she had seen of the house so far, the cameras were everywhere. She gave a tiny nod.
Lena cupped the back of Nino’s neck and pulled him in for an open-mouthed kiss.
They danced away from the bar, moving in time with the pulsing rhythm.
“More?” Nino held up the glass.
Anika shook her head. It was hard enough to keep her mind on why they were here while Gianni’s nearness continued to send tiny shockwaves through her. More alcohol would make it impossible.
Nino pressed his lips against the curve in her neck.
Goosebumps bubbled up on her skin. Anika ignored them, while Lena sought out his mouth again. If this was a test of her ability to maintain her cover, she was damn well going to ace it.
“You were right,” Gianni whispered, his breath warm on her lips. “About researching the weather on our wedding day. Good work.” His gaze poured into her.
The unexpected praise fed oxygen to the spark between them. She tilted her head and pursed her lips in invitation. Gianni—or maybe Nino—leaned forward in acceptance.
“¿Quieres bailar con migo?” The blond woman, still wearing her dress, but no shoes, appeared at their side.
Anika pulled away from Gianni and cursed the interruption in silence.
“I mean,” the woman said, reverting to English, “you want dance...with me?”
“No, he doesn’t.” Frustration sizzled in Anika. She w
anted, if only for a moment longer, to stay connected with the man inside the operative, the one who had made love to her last night. This stoned-out woman was disturbing that fragile bond. What would Lena do? Play the strong-willed, possessive wife, maybe. She pushed in front of the woman. “Step away from my husband.”
The woman bit down on her lip and glanced back over her shoulder, before returning her gaze to Gianni. “Vittorio wants me...I give you...good time.”
“I’m all the good time he needs, or wants.” Lena pressed close to Nino, stroked his cheek. “Isn’t that right, darling?”
“Yes, tesoro.” Nino took Lena’s hand and kissed it. “Don’t worry.” He directed his words to the woman, who had clasped her arms across her chest and was shifting from one foot to the other. “I will be sure to let Señor Vasquez know how much I appreciate his invitation.”
Nino slid his arm around Lena’s waist and guided her away from the woman toward the crackling fire. They continued to hold each other, as if lost in their own private world, even after the music ended. Keeping his lips near her ear, Gianni whispered, “I’m going to take a walk around the property and conduct more surveillance.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“You take the house. Cover as much as you can without arousing suspicion. I expect Vasquez will want to enjoy a cigar after his swim. I’ll join him. Learn what I can about his operations.”
“I thought we were a team on this assignment.”
“We each have our roles to play. Vasquez will be more open without a beautiful woman around to try and impress.”
Lena brushed her hand across his cheek. “Just make sure a cigar is all you enjoy with him,” she said, her voice knife-tip sharp.
Nino pressed his lips to her forehead. “Don’t wait up for me.”
Oh, but I will, Anika thought. Nodding, Lena agreed.
Chapter 15
Salt from the sea water flecked the air around Anika. It swirled through her nostrils and settled at the back of her throat. She sat in a forward position on the bench seat of the inflatable ocean raft, helmed by Gianni, as it bounced across the waves. Clouds drifted past a half moon, providing brief intermittent views of the passing coastline.
They were en route to Isobela Tobar’s home, ninety-five kilometers up the coast. She lived in a plexisteel-and-glass structure set high on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. While Anika and Gianni would have preferred to intercept her during a drug or arms run, preferably near one of Vasquez’s controlled borders, Tobar hadn’t been spotted outside of her residence in months. They had no choice but to risk a home assault.
She and Gianni had spent the previous day in full prep mode. In the morning, they had studied the logistical details and determined a plan of attack. The afternoon had been devoted to tactical drills. Vasquez’s technology was a crude mimicking of the target’s house and grounds, including ingress routes, floor layouts, and security team configs, but by day’s end Anika felt she had mastered the basic entry and take-down approach. Training and instinct would have to handle any surprises along the way.
Anika flexed her right wrist, testing it. No twinges. Good. The pain meds were still working. Yesterday’s multiple climbs had left her wrist aching. But she’d needed practice with the gloves—they were the only things that would keep her from falling off the cliff wall to certain death. She and Gianni had argued about who would handle the approach via the cliff wall. Even though the tech team had told them the gloves would only support Anika’s body weight, Gianni had insisted on trying them out. After his third unsuccessful attempt to scale a wall on Vasquez’s estate, Gianni had conceded she would take the wall, while he used the elevator.
As the raft sped forward, Anika rehearsed the proper motions to work the gloves: a firm open-handed slap against the climbing surface, followed by a rolling peel from the palm’s heel up to the fingertips.
Watching her from the bench directly opposite was Vasquez, his presence a reminder that missions sometimes required last-minute adjustments. After another delicious dinner, he had announced his intention to join the mission. “You two secure the target,” he had said. “But I want to kill the bitch myself.”
Alarms bells had blared in Anika’s head. Having Vasquez as a ride-along was not part of their plan.
Before she could open her mouth to veto the idea, Nino spoke up. “Understood.”
Anika didn’t understand. And Lena sure as hell didn’t. “It’s too late for changes now,” she said. “We’ve only prepped for a two-man scenario.”
“From where I sit, there are only two men in the scenario.” Vasquez subjected her to another slithery gaze.
Anika’s anxiety morphed into Lena’s anger. She gripped the chair’s arms and prepared for battle.
From underneath the table, Gianni pressed his leg against hers in silent warning. “We’ll make the necessary modifications. But we’ll need more of your men on the ground, as distractions.”
“And we’ll need more compensation,” Lena said. “Change fees. As stipulated in our contract.”
“Contract?” Vasquez’s eyebrows pinched together.
Oh, shit, Anika thought, realizing her mistake. She didn’t actually know if there was a contract—the mission profile hadn’t mentioned one. Did assassins use them?
“Our contracts are verbal,” Nino added. “A simple ‘yes’ will do.”
“How much more?” Vasquez asked.
“Twenty-five percent.” Lena relaxed back in her chair.
“Ten.”
“Twenty-two.” Lena lifted her glass of wine.
“Twelve.” Vasquez leaned toward her, reaching for her glass with his own. “I’m providing more manpower.”
“True.” Lena pulled back just as their glasses were about to touch. “Twenty and a quarter.” She threw in a flirtatious smile for good measure.
“Muy bien.” Their glasses touched. The chime of expensive glassware sounded between them.
On the way back to their room, Gianni had dipped his head away from direct view of the hallway cams, and murmured, “Get ready.”
Nino grabbed Lena’s arm in anger. “You shouldn’t have told Vasquez he couldn’t come on the mission once I agreed. Never contradict me in front of a client.”
Lena jerked her arm out of Nino’s grasp. “You shouldn’t have agreed without consulting me.”
“And stop flirting with him. It’s unprofessional.”
“I was negotiating. It’s extremely professional. And, at twenty and a quarter percent, extremely lucrative.” Lena stopped in her tracks. “And since you brought up flirting, where were you last night?”
“What are you talking about?” Nino’s eyes narrowed and shot sparks at her.
Anika rocked back on her heels, but Lena pressed ahead. “You never came to bed. Not ours, anyway. Maybe Claudette’s? Or Suzette’s? Or both?” The questions came fast and hard from Lena, even though Anika already knew the answer was no. Gianni had told her so earlier this afternoon, before he had suggested this mock-fight.
Nino unleashed an angry stream of Italian.
While Anika’s brain translated key words—crazy woman...cigar...marriage vows...ridiculous...enough—Lena crossed her arms and waited.
When silence again filled the air between them, Anika switched subjects to escalate the fight. Drawing from her agency training, she chose a typical area of conflict between married people. “And this year,” she said, “we’re going to my mother’s for the holidays. I’ve already made the reservations.”
Nino threw up his hands and stalked off.
Lena waited until he had disappeared around the corner.
Then, for the benefit of the cams, Anika sighed out loud. “Oh, Nino, so predictable. Always a fight so close to an assignment.” She hugged her arms around her waist. “Anything to avoid sleeping with your wife and losing focus on the job. Then again, you always make it up to me afterward.”
Although the mock fight had been orchestrated for the surveilla
nce cameras, the excuse it provided for Nino and Lena to sleep in separate rooms again was really for Gianni and Anika’s benefit. Gianni had been the one to suggest it as they were enjoying refreshments on the balcony outside their room after a morning of mission prep.
They were looking out over the pool and garden beyond, their backs to the room and to the surveillance cams in the upper corners. Anika tipped her face to the afternoon sun, enjoying a rare moment of peace and stillness. They had spent an intense morning going over and over the assault plan, reviewing tactics, making adjustments, testing the equipment. Anika was tired, but also exhilarated. She and Gianni had developed a rhythm of working together like fluid dance partners. She was more confident than ever of the mission’s success.
“You’ve noted the surveillance cams?” Gianni asked.
“Yes, they’re everywhere. Two out here. Four in the room behind us, one in each corner. More in the bathroom,” Anika replied.
“The ones in our room provide unobstructed views of the bed.”
Anika’s stomach suddenly jittered. “I noticed.” She had been so preoccupied with the logistical and physical preparations for tomorrow’s assault on Tobar’s residence that she had forgotten about the coming night and sharing a bed with Gianni as his pretend-wife.
Gianni placed his hand on hers. “I’d prefer not to perform for Vasquez’s security team.”
Her pulse quickened at his touch. “We could just...sleep?” she asked, although she didn’t think she would be able to fall asleep with him lying next to her.
His lips quirked. “That would require too much self-discipline on my part.”
“Is that why you didn’t sleep in here last night?”
He nodded.
“Where did you sleep?”
“In a different guest room. Vasquez told Suzette to join me.”
Anika’s stomach dropped. She pulled her hand away. “The blond? You slept with her?” Hurt and anger fused into a fireball in her chest. To calm down, she told herself it wasn’t Gianni who had slept with Suzette. It was Nino. Gianni was only acting the part. Still, the image of two pairs of naked arms and legs tangled together was like a painful bruise in her mind.