by Taylor Lee
“The reason it took so long to find her was that her parents refused to go to the authorities. Kobayashi had enough international contacts he was confident that he could engineer her release. Besides, his wife Elena was convinced that the kidnappers would kill Mia as they’d threatened to do if the police were involved. She was adamant that the family needed to handle the issue. After the ransom demands rose dramatically, and the pictures of a terrified Mia became more and more frightening, other family members convinced her parents to go to the authorities.
“Engineered by the FBI and other officials, plus a crack SWAT team, the raid was well executed and Mia was released. While she’d gone through a hideous experience, at least physically, except for a lot of bruises and scrapes, she was relatively unharmed. Valiz and two other gang members, one of them Valiz’s eighteen-year-old girlfriend Concetta Munoz, were killed in the raid. The others, all minors, including Torres, who lucky for him was only seventeen at the time, were arrested and shipped off to high-intensity juvenile facilities.”
Ian paused to retrieve a humidor of Dominican cigars from the top of the mantel. He took his time lighting one, and then offered them to Gray.
Gray shook his head in refusal. “Ian. When you say she wasn’t physically hurt, expound please.”
Ian nodded acknowledging the appropriateness of the question. “She was bound and blindfolded most of the time. No question that she was knocked around, apparently by the female gang members who liked terrifying the little rich girl. For better or worse, Torres decided that she was his prize. That claim had the positive effect of keeping her safe from the rest of the gang including Valiz, but in the process Mia gave into a slice of Stockholm Syndrome.”
“She fell for her captor.”
“Yes.”
Gray took a long, deep breath forcing himself to speak calmly.
“Was she raped?”
The pained expression on Ian’s face darkened. After a long moment, he said soberly, “She insisted that she wasn’t raped. She swore that their ‘activity’ was consensual. However, given her age and utter lack of sexual experience, combined with the horror of her capture, we can decide how consensual it likely was.”
Seeing the lines etched on Ian’s face deepen, Gray intervened to give his boss a chance to regroup. Deciding that a cigar was what he needed, as well as a hit of the Bowmore, he reached for the humidor and refilled both Ian’s and his glass. Not realizing how much worse it could get, Gray was stunned when Ian continued.
“Unfortunately, the kidnapping was just the beginning of the horrors Mia faced. Her father never believed that she wasn’t raped and was consumed not only with the dishonor he was convinced his daughter endured but also the guilt for her capture. He was convinced that his wealth and notoriety was the cause of the kidnapping. He insisted that Mia change her identity, then shipped her off to Switzerland to a private school where he thought she’d be safe.
“Unfortunately, as a result of the kidnapping and his inflamed sense of guilt, Kobayashi began drinking much more than he ever had. A year after Mia was taken, Takima and Elena were coming home from an award dinner in San José. Takima was at the wheel of their Bentley and apparently drunk. He swerved across the median on the US 101 and their car was hit head-on by a tractor trailer truck. The driver of the truck survived, but both of Mia’s parent were killed instantly.”
“Jesus, Ian.” Gray’s exclamation was gruff, agonized. “Christ, man. How did Maya survive it?”
Ian grimaced. “I’m not sure how she did, Gray. We all were concerned that she would never recover. But, at least on the surface, she did. She graduated from high school at seventeen and went on to become an academic superstar. Education became her salvation. I watched her throw herself into one degree program after another as if the only way she could survive was to add another set of initials to her name.” He barked a harsh laugh utterly devoid of humor. “I used to tease her that she would soon be known by a twenty-three letter acronym, not her name. If it bothered her she never let on. Needless to say, Maya, as we now called her, had every advantage her impressive inheritance afforded her. The only things she never had were friends.”
Ian closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his forehead as if they could blot out the pain that was creasing his brow. After several long moments he opened his eyes and met Gray’s concerned gaze.
Taking a deep breath, Ian expelled it slowly and said with a weary sigh, “There is one more thing you need to know, Gray. Maya’s mother, Elena Kobayashi, was my half-sister. Gray, I’m… Maya’s uncle.”
Chapter 4
Managing to cover his shock but not his surprised gasp, Gray jerked to his feet. Too stunned to stand still, he began pacing the floor. Gray was glad that he’d long ago developed a tolerance for strong alcohol. At this moment he knew he needed his wits about him as he never had. He needn’t have worried; at the horror of Ian’s agonized tale it was as if the significant amount of scotch he’d consumed had flowed straight from his veins and out through a ten inch wide hole. Call it spontaneous sobriety. After an arduous internal deliberation, Gray stopped pacing and leaned against the bar. Speaking slowly, he faced his boss.
“Ian, what happened to Maya and to you is devastating. Frankly, I don’t know how either of you survived. That said, it is imperative I turn to the present. I don’t know how to say this, Boss Man, without hurting your feelings, or being insubordinate, but it needs to be said. Given the circumstances, as incredible as they are, I simply cannot believe that you are seriously considering including Maya in an operation involving her former captor. But… apparently you are. Given that, as much as it pains me to say it, I don’t trust your judgment on this one, Col. Ross. You’re too close to it, Ian. Much too close to the situation to be making critical decisions. I can’t believe that Diamond didn’t raise all the objections I’ll be raising, but we all know that you and she have a complicated relationship. So be it. For that reason, I’m pulling rank.”
Meeting Ian’s strained gaze, Gray laid down his marker.
“Baldly stated, here’s the deal, man. First, I plan on meeting with Dr. Taveras, Maya. After I’ve questioned her, I’ll analyze the risk/reward equation and decide if the mission has potential. Not only will I be the one to decide if it will go forward, but also, should I conclude that it is worth pursuing, I will take command of the operation. I also will decide if Maya is capable of playing a role in it—and, if so, what that role will be. At that point, I will redesign the operation to reduce the obvious risks and give it a chance in hell of succeeding.”
Gray paused to emphasize his conclusion. “It’s only fair to tell you, Ian, that my gut says that the likelihood of us going forward with this crazier-than-shit op are about 100 to1, against. The first thing I’m going to do tonight is to sit down with Maya. At the end of that meeting, I’ll let you know if the mission will go forward, and in what form.”
Ian held his gaze then nodded slowly.
“It’s your call, Col. Webb. As you said, in this case, you’re the boss.”
~~~
Maya glanced at the time on her phone. It was now one minute later than it was the last time she looked. She chided herself knowing the real reason she’d reached for her mobile, again. She hoped that maybe when she looked at it this time, the message that had shattered her composure, sent it into orbit, would be gone. That it would have been a mere figment of her overactive imagination. Unfortunately, the curt message signed by Colonel Webb, “I’ll be at your place in ten minutes,” had been confirmed by the call from her uncle warning her to expect Grayson Webb at any minute. Ian had added in a strained voice that that her visitor knew her story. Maya just bet he did. Likely every ugly detail of it.
For a brief moment Maya allowed herself to be angry. Dammit, who did these men think they were? Why hadn’t her uncle held his ground? Let her tell Col. Webb what he needed to know when she felt good and ready to tell him—if ever. For that matter, why did Agent Webb have to know all
the gory details of her past? Why couldn’t he just follow orders like subordinates were supposed to? Like her students and her research assistants did.
The sharp knock on the door interrupted her musing. She was determined not to be cowed by the arrival of her late night visitor. Glancing at the mirror in the hallway, Maya frowned, hoping that she looked as annoyed as she felt. She was secretly glad that she hadn’t removed her makeup and that her white silk lounging outfit was attractive, in fact, maybe even a little suggestive. For a vain moment, she hoped that her appearance might help her navigate what she knew was going to be a challenging discussion. She quickly admonished herself, reminding the silly woman in the mirror that she’d spent her entire academic career playing down her looks, insisting instead that she be judged by her brain—not her breasts. She told herself firmly that she would handle Col. Webb the way she handled all men who approached her without an invitation: she’d dismiss him. Exactly like she had dismissed Grayson the first time she met him.
When she opened her door, Maya’s resolve sizzled like an ice cube tossed into a bed of hot coals. It didn’t just melt—it evaporated. Which, she consoled herself, shouldn’t surprise her. After all, when was the last time a six foot four, towering hulk of muscle and masculinity had stood in her doorway, glowering at her?
Maya hated that her voice shook, but she couldn’t keep it from quavering.
“Uh, good evening, Col. Webb. Won’t you.…” She caught herself, annoyed that she’d called him by his officer rank instead of just calling him Gray. She quickly recovered and said firmly, “Please. Come in.”
Grayson studied her for a long moment and then smiled ever so slightly.
“That is precisely what I intend to do, Doctor Taveras.”
With that confident rejoinder he walked past her, closing the door behind him. Turning back, he leaned over and locked the door. At her surprised start, he said, “Habit. One you should develop, Maya, now that you’ve decided you want to add ‘secret agent’ to your curriculum vitae.”
Brushing by her, he marched into the great room as though it were his house, not hers. Doing her best to quiet her thumping heart, Maya determined that she would take hold of the situation or risk losing it forever. She reminded herself that she didn’t have to stand here in her hallway blushing like a ninny and allow the obnoxious man to make fun of her. Dammit, she had more degrees than he’d know the names of, and they were just as hard to get as all those medals he likely had in a display case in his living room.
Maya drew herself up to her full height and was startled to see that at five feet, eight inches tall she barely came to his shoulder. Perhaps she should have worn heels, but they would be ridiculous with her lounging pajamas. Next time, though, she vowed that she would wear her highest heels. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel as insignificant as she did now.
Determined to assert herself, she said coolly, “Given that it is almost 11 p.m. and you descended on me uninvited, the least you could do is not make fun of me.…”
Horrified that she sounded like a petulant child rather than a firm, confident woman, Maya let her voice trail off in mid-sentence. When he turned and studied her through narrowed eyes, she was tempted to back away and had to physically hold her place. Dammit, she excoriated herself, why hadn’t she just locked the door and refused him entry. Surely her uncle would have backed her up. Maybe….
Grayson stared at her then his lips curled up slightly at the corners.
“I beg your pardon, Dr. Taveras. I wasn’t necessarily making fun of you. After all, I believe one of the items on the docket tonight will be what I understood was your desire to become a secret agent.”
Determined to recover what little composure she had left, Maya marched past him trying to ignore the scent of his cologne. If she was correct, it was Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur, surely one of the most expensive colognes on the market. The fact that this huge, hulking man with the shaggy, dirty blond hair and flashing sky blue eyes was wearing a cologne as sophisticated and as sensual as Frederic Malle’s made her feel even less significant. Good God, if the surfer dude, as his colleagues called him, could undermine her with his scent, she was surely lost, miles out of her depth.
Maya made a beeline for her modest bar, almost tripping on the edge of her antique Sura rug in front of the sofa. Catching the back of the armchair she made it to the counter without falling. Thoroughly undone, she refused to look at Gray, confident that he was laughing at her nervousness. Keeping her back to him, she reached for her favorite wine, desperately needing the consoling courage of alcohol. Too late, she realized that he would think wine was wussy, too academic. Trying to remember if she had hard liquor anywhere, she closed her eyes and gave up, conceding that she was hopelessly outmatched. Turning to him, she held up the bottle of La Scolca Gavi, a respectable white wine that her uncle had given her.
“I… I’m sorry. All I have is wine, but I do have red if you prefer. Actually I think I may have bourbon or something in the kitchen if… if you want something harder…”
She was gratified to see that at least he wasn’t laughing outright, but the twinkle in those dastardly blue eyes was apparent.
Grayson smiled at her and said easily, “No, the Gavi will be a nice change from the bottles of expensive scotch that your uncle and I put away in under two hours.”
His emphasis on the word “uncle” brought them both back to the reason that he was there. Gray’s expression hardened appreciatively as he ambled over to the sofa and sat down. To her amazement, his body seemed to fill at least half of her contemporary sofa. Maya tried not to stare at him. But it was impossible not to. He was so large, so masculine. She chided herself, forcing herself to label his presence correctly. Face it, the guy was downright sexy. She breathed a disconsolate sigh. God, since when did a pair of worn blue jeans and a black t-shirt look sexy? She sniffed. Since the blue jeans were stretched over a pair of powerful thighs and the t-shirt hugged a broad chest as impressive as his bulging arms. God, even his hands were big and his heavy boots studded with chains had to beat least a size fourteen. Maya had never felt so small before, at least physically. If anything, she’d always thought she was too tall, gangly, storkish. But now, compared to this specimen of a too masculine male, she felt overpowered, threatened by his physicality.
Turning away she did her best to open the wine without mangling the cork and managed not to break one of the wine glasses as she filled them. She poured in more of the fragrant liquid than was considered appropriate, but she knew that she was going to need the fortifying power of the alcohol to deal with this overbearing man. She didn’t want to have to get up again and refill her glass, making her look like a lush as well as a nervous nellie.
Turning to face him and seeing his solemn expression, Maya questioned why she’d suggested to her uncle that he assign Agent Webb to the operation. She admitted it was because she knew that he’d been enamored with her when they’d met at the party last month, and that he was surprised that she’d rebuffed him. She’d assumed that the amiable man with the quick smile would be easier to manage than either the hard-eyed Irishman Jase Malone or the black U.S. senator’s impressive son, Noah Walker. Now looking at the overpowering man who was studying her through narrowed eyes, Maya wondered how she could have been so wrong.
She’d clearly underestimated him. The other two agents seemed positively tame compared to the stony-eyed man watching her. Too late, she recalled how her uncle had called him a chameleon, describing how at a moment’s notice the affable Grayson Webb could become the most feared killer on his team of fierce agents. But it was too late. The damage was done. He was here, in her damn living room no less, and the stern expression on his face didn’t bode well for their impending discussion.
Walking over to the sofa, Maya put one glass on the far edge of the table in front of him, not wanting to get close enough to hand it to him. She started toward the occasional chair across the room, but his low command stopped her.
�
��Uh, uh, Doc. Not there. Here.”
To her horror she saw that he was pointing to the sofa cushion adjacent to his, indicating—no ordering—her to sit there, next to him.
“I… I prefer to sit in that chair. I… I don’t want—”
He cut her off.
“Sorry, Dr. Taveras. I’m not here to discuss your wants or even your needs. No, Doctor, this isn’t one of your classrooms, or even one of your high level consultations where you wow your audience with your expertise. Au contraire. Tonight we’re going to discuss my world and why you think you can sashay your perky ass into it—and not get yourself and the rest of us killed in the process.”
Gray’s lip curled up in a slight sneer as he took the glass of wine out of her hand and put it on the table beside his own. Tapping the cushion next to his, he said softly, “Now for the last time, Maya, please park that curvy little ass of yours here. Right next to me. Unless, Doc, you’d prefer that I put you on my lap.”
Chapter 5
Maya stammered, “I… I don’t want to sit by you.” She added inanely, “You’re too big—”
Gray laughed. “Honey, my size is the least of your problems.”
Ignoring her outraged squeal, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down next to him. He settled back in the corner of the sofa giving her a little more room. Reaching for her glass he handed it to her and took the other glass off the table. Raising it to her, he spoke with a hard-eyed grin.