by Taylor Lee
At least she didn’t have to be concerned about being hit on. It was a given that all you had to be was an American woman with boobs and an ass and the Korean men swarmed you. But she had enough of that in her undercover work. Tonight she wanted to be who she really was. Captain Tiffany Anderson, hard-assed American soldier decked out in oversized camouflage, work boots, and a regulation cap smashed on top of a mass of red hair that she kept contained in scraggly braids. Fifteen hours earlier when she’d started her day, she’d actually smelled good, and she was wearing her contacts lenses. Not so now. Her best deterrent to unwanted advances were her Coke bottle glasses in heavy black frames. Yeah, she could have gotten designer frames at the base commissary. But there was something about the regulation Army specs that triggered her quirky sense of humor. Plus the utility of them couldn’t be overlooked. She preferred the men’s version because most of the time she had a safety strap connected to them which made them even less attractive… but at least they didn’t fall off when she sparred. She’d learned early on that if she worked at it, her bedraggled appearance and ferocious frown could keep even the most desperate Korean men at bay. So far tonight she hadn’t had to refuse a single overture. She snorted. She must really look bad. Or looked like who she was.
When she wasn’t undercover, she was a CQC, Close Quarters Combat master instructor, teaching new recruits how to make the bad guys wish they’d never tangled with an American soldier. Her years of mixed martial arts training and a roomful of medals in every competition from Strikeforce to Elite XC testified to her skills. But tonight, neither her successes nor the near completion of an important undercover assignment were enough to raise her sub-basement spirits.
She grimaced. Admit it. It was this damn holiday season that had her so depressed. One more Christmas away from her Army Ranger father and his latest wife, didn’t help. Neither did her empty apartment. Since she’d thrown out her former boyfriend, Willie the worm—as she had taken to calling him—her lovely apartment on the outskirts of Yongsan Garrison Military post that had once been her refuge between assignments, was now distinctly less welcoming. Nothing like discovering Willie with his ‘willie’ ensconced in a bevy of Asian women—the oldest of whom couldn’t have been twenty. In their bed, no less. And, she scowled as yet another barmaid ignored her upraised hand and passed her by, she couldn’t get anyone to serve her a goddamn drink!
The barmaid who’d skated by without so much as a ‘I’ll get to you in a minute ugly lady,’ was hell-bent on joining a cadre of girls fighting for the attention of the tall guy at the next table. Tiffany craned her neck to see who or what had inspired the chorus of high pitched, sing song excitement from the women. From the back the dude was impressive. Although not obviously military, at six-plus feet tall, he had a fighter’s stature. He was dressed in blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt that hugged broad shoulders and revealed an impressive set of biceps. He’d tied his shoulder length sun-streaked hair with a leather cord at his nape. The multi-thousand dollar watch on his thick wrist and solid gold chains around his corded neck signaled he was likely one of the many European playboys who came to Asia attracted by the abundance of stunning diminutive women. The dark haired Adonis rose to his feet showing off a first class ass then turned to give her a frontal view of a truly righteous body that to her expert eye screamed MMA. As if his body weren’t guy-candy enough, his scrubby beard shadow, high cheekbones and sparkling sea green eyes shot an appreciative zing through her desire starved body. His engaging laugh revealing bright white teeth and full sensuous lips were a package that made the excited group of giggling girls crowding him understandable.
Acknowledging that she may as well go home and raid her own liquor cabinet as it would be months if not years until she got served here, Tiffany caught a full faced glimpse of the rock star. Swallowing a shocked gasp of recognition, she sunk back in her chair stunned. Dear God, it couldn’t be—but it was. Surrounded by eager women was Brady Schaefer, Col. Brady Schaefer, who had served with her on a mission three years ago. A flash of pure pain kept her anchored in her chair, hoping that she was as invisible to him as she was to the bargirls. It wasn’t that Brady wasn’t a great guy. His outrageous over the top humor had kept her laughing in some very challenging situations.
No, his hearty chuckle brought back a mission that she’d tried hard to forget. But how do you forget the one guy she might actually have fallen in love with? If only he hadn’t been brutally murdered before they had a chance to explore whether their budding lust had long lasting potential. Anthony Beloi was Brady’s partner. Along with Commander Jake Gardner and Clint Martinson, they’d formed a five person undercover team that busted a sex slave auction operation here in Korea. Anthony had been the soft-spoken one, the gentle spirit in the fierce warrior’s body. The other three men had been delighted when she and Anthony hooked up. She remembered Brady muttering in surprised pleasure as she and Anthony headed off for an unforgettable weekend, that it was “good to see that sometimes the nice guy does finish first.”
After Anthony’s murder, she had exchanged e-mails and occasional phone calls with the other members of the team. But over time their overtures dwindled and ultimately came to a halt. It was obvious to her that their memories were as painful as hers. Brady had sent the most frequent messages. That was the kind of guy he was. Garrulous, loved by everyone, men and especially women, he’d sensed that she and Anthony could have had a future and wanted her to know he understood that she wasn’t just some weekend piece of ass. But Tiffany decided that in her world of high intensity missions, where she had as good a chance to die as to live, that she had to put her would-be lover in the past and do her best to live however much of her life was left to her.
Smarting from the flood of painful memories at the sight of Brady, she pulled her cap down over her eyes and sunk deeper in her chair. Given her current maudlin state, churning up memories of Anthony was counterproductive. Especially with the rock star himself, Brady Schaeffer. Besides, she had some pride. She didn’t want him to see her like this. He was so damned spectacular and she was so plain.
She needn’t have worried. Even for Brady, he was dealing with what looked like a virtual harem of young women. She watched him carelessly throw a couple hundred dollar bills on the table then head to the exit with no fewer than four lovely young women clinging to him. The downcast expressions of the girls who still had to work underscored her former team mate’s appeal.
Chapter 2
Tiffany lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, as usual unable to sleep. Tomorrow was a big day. Her undercover mission was reaching a critical point. They were coming close to nabbing the primary player in an illegal weapons operation. He was an international criminal who was making millions selling American and Russian weapons to North Korea. It had taken two days working at Shin Lee’s casino to get noticed and a week to work her way into Shin’s inner circle. If all went as planned, in the next couple of days they would be able to trap him making an illegal deal. First thing in the morning she was meeting with Col. Marion, the overly cautious commander who was heading up the mission. He’d told her he was bringing in a ringer to engineer the final take down of their mark. At first, she’d fought the inclusion of another player. It annoyed the hell out of her that these chauvinistic soldiers always felt that even women with her track record needed some hotshot to swoop in and consummate the deal. But Tiffany had to admit, Shin Lee’s interest in her was getting a little too personal. She’d made as many excuses as she could to keep her distance. But it was only a matter of time before he’d insist on sex and god knows what else. His penchant for kinky sex was the stuff of legends.
With a groan she admitted that it wasn’t her work that had her staring at the ceiling. No it was a tall, laughing guy with a rakish beard shadow and an ass that she’d understandably overlooked, given her infatuation with Anthony. Tiffany took out her trusty vibrator that had been her sole solace since Willie the Wonder Boy bit the dust. But the memory of Wi
llie dampened the emerging sensations that had been zinging through her since she’d seen Brady. With a scornful snort, she wondered if any of the young women who followed Brady into the starry night had been part of Willie’s groupies. Unlikely, given the abundant supply of young Korean women eager to bed American soldiers. These innocent girls lived in a media-created dream world certain that that they would be the lucky winner of the golden ticket and end up in America, convinced that the streets were literally paved with gold. Given that many of her undercover operations involved freeing unsuspecting Asian women from the flourishing international sex trade made Willie’s—and probably Brady’s—actions all the more abhorrent.
At the distasteful thought of Willie, Tiffany stuffed her vibrator back into the drawer. Instead of counting sheep she tried to imagine how a man screwed four women at one time. She wondered who did what to whom and when? It was a conundrum, something that had intrigued her since Willie had turned their bed into a playground. She wondered what beside the promise of an American-sized dick was Willie’s attraction? Knowing Willie’s modest endowments and short fuse, she imagined the women must have been disappointed. But it was doubtful that sex had attracted the girls. More likely it was the promise of a meal ticket or better yet, an airplane ticket. She could have told the women that the chances of any kind of a ticket from Willie was more remote than him lasting four minutes from start to finish no matter how many women worked on him.
Tiffany drifted off to sleep immersed in an erotic dream where the stars of the show weren’t Willie or any of the young women he’d brought to their bed. Instead, the leading man was a tall guy with a hearty laugh, twinkling green eyes and equipment that at least in her fantasy was a decided improvement on Willie’s. The female lead didn’t have shiny black hair or a tiny childlike body. No, in her dream, the star of the show was a vampy woman with pale skin and a smattering of freckles, a lushly curved body and bright red hair.
Chapter 3
“Tiffany, you have done a phenomenal job. You know that. As usual you have surpassed all of our expectations. Bringing in our consultant is not a reflection on you or any of the male members of your team.”
Tiffany nodded, doing her best to hide her annoyance. Col. Marion was a middle-aged man with balding hair, sharp blue eyes and an impressive array of medals and ribbons on his chest. In the past he had led dangerous field missions but was now content to commandeer the operations from a distance, bringing his formidable strategic experience to the fray.
In Tiffany’s thinking, her commander had one major fault. Col. Marion had a daughter Tiffany’s age, and the stay-at-home mom had blessed the Colonel with two adorable granddaughters. Though he never said as much, Tiffany knew the Colonel wished that Tiffany was under the protection of some other man—not him—and was busy procreating, not taking down vicious criminals. Under his crusty demeanor, she knew he adored her and was more proud of her than he was any of the male members of his team. But southern gentleman that he was, it stuck in his craw that Tiffany’s usual role in their missions was that of a seductress, a nicer way of saying that she was supposed to be a prostitute.
Fortunately for Tiffany’s military career, her Army Ranger father was the exact opposite of Col. Marion. Major Anderson never fully forgave God for giving him a daughter instead of a son. But making the best of a bad situation, he decided that just because Tiffany was inferior physically didn’t mean she couldn’t be a hell of a fighter. At first all went well. In elementary and middle school Tiffany was taller than most girls and swept every MMA tournament. Many parents wouldn’t let their daughters or sons in the ring with the precocious warrior. But then fickle gods in the form of Mother Nature intervened. Tiffany stopped growing—taller, that is—and began to grow in other areas. Her father was as horrified as she was with her now bounteous breasts and curvy hips. After he overcame his disappointment at her physical shortcomings, ever the creative special ops guy, Major Anderson created moves and countermoves that made Tiffany more of a threat than she’d ever been. But it was her stints in Asia that proved to be Tiffany’s testing grounds. As good an instructor as her father was, the Asian senseis she worked with were accustomed to smaller fighters, and open to women warriors. Under the tutelage of world class Karate, Tai Kwon Do, Muay Thai, and Escrima masters, Tiffany’s skills went from formidable to stratospheric.
Tiffany forced herself to focus on Col. Marion’s description of the consultant they’d hired at considerable expense. In addition to the inherent sexism, that was another thing that annoyed Tiffany and made her consider a career outside of the military. Unhampered by rigid pay scales and regulations that kept the military operatives in check, the outside consultants had free range. Often former special ops guys, they were the ones who never could stay on the grid. Most of them, adrenalin junkies with a clock too fast for even Special Forces, were making a killing in the world of outside consultants. According to Col. Marion their white knight met all of these criteria including a whispered fee the equivalent of six months of Tiffany’s pay. To say it pissed her off was an understatement.
Tiffany fought boredom as Col. Marion droned on about how lucky they were to find this particular operative. Apparently the guy was a world class poker player, accustomed to moving among the international jet set and could easily fit into Shin Lee’s elite crowd. And, he came with false credentials that his company promised would pass the scrutiny of the Jopok underworld. Tiffany sure as hell hoped so. She’d seen enough of the infamous Korean mafia to know that they could spot an amateur a mile off. When they did, there’d be room to spare in a two foot by four foot box, after they’d stuffed in all of his chopped up body parts.
At the knock on the door, Col. Marion put down his laser pointer and moved to welcome their newest team member and purported ringer.
Staring at the hunk at the door, twice in as many days, Tiffany prayed to whatever gods existed to open up the ground and let her sink into oblivion.
Brady’s lean muscular body filled the doorway. He loomed over Col. Marion, making the medium sized commander seem small, insignificant by comparison. But as Tiffany had learned in the past, it wasn’t Col. Schaefer’s commanding physique or extraordinary rock star good looks that made him formidable. Behind the laughing eyes, quick grin and smart mouth was a fighter to be reckoned with. No one who tangled with him once, ever underestimated him again. If they lived through the first encounter. To women, herself included, Tiffany knew that the whiff of danger simmering just below the surface of the seemingly gregarious man made him irresistible. Women wanted to know if the promise of sexual nirvana in those gleaming green eyes was real and as provocative as advertised.
Col. Marion puffed up like a proud peacock who’d managed to snare an extra-large piece of grain for his brood.
Leading Brady into the room, the older man introduced him with a triumphant wave of his hand, “Gentlemen and lady, I’d like to introduce Col. Brady Schaefer, former Delta, consummate scallywag and long term compatriot of the formidable Col. Jake Gardner. I’ve known Jake and Brady for years. I worked with them on a couple of missions and was sorry as hell when they left active duty. But nearly being thrown in the brink for overstepping their bounds more times that was comfortable, they decided they were better off working outside of the military. We’re damn lucky Brady was free for this operation. There couldn’t be a better fit for our needs.”
One by one, Col. Marion introduced the members of the team who’d all risen to their feet out of respect for the infamous shock jock and famous Delta Force member. Tiffany did her best to slink behind the taller male soldiers. But with obvious pride, Col. Marion found her hovering behind Capt. Tran Fong, one of their Korean born team members and turned to introduce her to Brady.
“Col. Schaefer, I’d like you to meet the star of our enterprise and the only person I know in the entire U. S. Army who could bring Shin Lee to his knees in less than a week. This is Captain—”
Before Col. Marion could say her name, Brady
stared at her, did a double take and then roared in laughter.
“Hot damn! As I live and breathe there is a god!”
To the amazement of her astonished team members, he advanced on her, picked her up under her arms and swung her in a wide circle, knocking her regulation cap off her fiery curls.
“Holy shit, Colonel, if you’d let it be known that the hottest piece of ass in the whole of the U.S. Army was part of this operation, you’d have had every hound dog in the country begging to come aboard.”
Col. Marion stepped back trying to hide his dismay—and also his grin.
“I… I take it you’ve met Captain Anderson, Colonel?” He managed the understatement with a cautious wink.
Brady set her on the floor and looked at her with obvious delight. Dropping his gaze to her chest, he quipped, “Hell, Colonel Marion, I’d know these… freckles… anywhere.”
Knowing that her face was as red as her flaming hair, Tiffany did her best to recover. Ignoring the guffaws and surprised grins on the faces of the men she’d kept at a distance with her uber professional persona, she pinned Brady with a haughty glare.
“Ah, yes. If it isn’t Col. Schaefer in the flesh. The terror of mothers and fathers of young girls everywhere, and the scourge of every ‘by the book’ commander.”
Brady laughed, an infectious sound that made Tiffany smile in spite of herself.
“Now, now, Tiff. Don’t oversell me. Although it’s been my experience that the mothers of said girls were as interested as their daughters.”
Tiffany joined in the good natured laughter that followed his easy outrageousness, doing her best to recover from her shock. Listening to him take over the conversation, disarming the men with his quick grasp of the critical role he was to play in their dangerous enterprise, she tried unsuccessfully to squelch her memory of the previous evening, particularly the dream that wakened her this morning reaching for her vibrator. Knowing that the heat flooding her core had pinked her cheeks, she prayed to a nonexistent god that Brady’s vaunted ability to read a woman’s body didn’t include reading her mind.