Undercover Soldier

by Linda O. Johnston

  “There are eggs, pancake mix, cereal—”

  “Fine. I’m in the mood for pancakes.” She walked briskly past him. If he wanted something else, he could darn well fix it himself.

  She located the ingredients and cookware and started on it without looking at him. She knew he stood behind her, could feel his eyes boring into her. Watching her act so damned domestic, as if they were actually the husband and wife team that was their cover.

  “Why don’t you make coffee?” she said. “I assume you have some.” She’d noted an inexpensive-looking coffeemaker on the counter.

  “Fine.”

  A while later they sat across from one another. Sherra could think of nothing to say. Most questions she’d had were now answered—even if she hadn’t liked the responses.

  “What are we doing today, Bill, dear?” She kept her tone low but sarcastic.

  “We can go to the nearby mall if you’d like. Or rent a boat.”

  “In other words, leave this house so I don’t insist on getting on the computer.”

  His bland expression changed into a slight smile—one that enhanced his hot appearance even more. “You got it.”

  “Fine. Let’s go shopping.” From the old days, she knew he would prefer almost anything else, and boating would have been great fun for him.

  “Great,” he said. “I can’t wait.”

  * * *

  He owed her this, Brody thought as he accompanied Sherra into the nicest mall in the Glen Burnie area. It was a two-level shopping center, with stores ranging from the anchoring department stores to discount clothing shops. Since it was Saturday, the place was crowded. That would keep him on edge. He’d no reason to think anyone had tracked them there, but he would stay alert.

  “Have you ever been here before?” Sherra asked as they walked through an automatic door at one of the center’s entrances. The wide aisle that stretched before them was lined with stores.

  “No, but I’ve been looking forward to checking it out.”

  The look in her dark eyes displayed astonishment before it was replaced by a knowing smile that lit up her gorgeous face. “I’m sure you have, Bill. I know shopping is one of your favorite pastimes.”

  He didn’t grin back, but it was an effort to keep his expression blank. As Sherra knew well from the old days, his method of shopping was to go out knowing exactly what he needed and where to find it, and make the quickest trip possible.

  Not so Bill Bradshaw, though. Brody was making up Bill’s personality as they went along.

  Brody wasn’t sure about Sally Bradshaw. In the past, Sherra had enjoyed just looking. She didn’t spend money on designer outfits but loved to check out a lot of stores, then try on clothes she’d zeroed in on, before reaching a firm—always correct—decision. At least he’d thought so. Everything had enhanced her perfect body.

  Right now, that method wasn’t a great idea—being in the open for a long time.

  Even so, he stopped beside her in a big-name department store as she studied sale racks. She appeared to be looking for a new shirt and jeans. Good. That fit with their undercover roles better than if she sought business attire in anticipation of a quick return to her job.

  “What do you think of these tops, Bill, dear?” She whipped hangers off the rack and waved three shirts—a pink plaid, a yellow one with flowers, and a blue striped one. He could see her wearing any of them in her role as Sally, or even as Sherra.

  He also had a vision of her—no, him—unbuttoning them when they were alone together at the house.

  “They’re fine,” he said noncommittally, then glanced toward a salesclerk helping a male customer. No one he recognized, but it still was a good idea to remain alert.

  And not think of undressing Sherra.

  “Fine.” She sounded grumpy. “I’ll go try them on with a couple pairs of jeans.”

  “Fine,” he repeated. He watched her stalk off, the tops of several hangers looped over her fingers as she headed toward the dressing rooms. The sway of her hips in the jeans she already wore started him thinking again of hot sex with her—and caused his own slacks to grow smaller.

  He observed her until she got through the fitting room door. He then drew closer, his hand at the pocket of the loose denim jacket he’d put on, since he’d stuck his compact weapon there. He listened to make certain he heard nothing, then backed off and surreptitiously watched the women who entered the area. All looked normal.

  After a while, he headed toward the nearby men’s department. He browsed racks of shirts and pants while watching the door where Sherra would emerge.

  His phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at it. The caller ID number was obscured, so he knew who it was.

  “Hi,” he said, “this is Bill.”

  “Hello, Bill. I wanted to let you know that your cousin Roy is going to visit you tomorrow—Sunday. He’ll stay for a few nights,” Ragar continued, “so I hope Sally won’t mind entertaining him while you go on that fishing trip we talked about. Conditions are perfect and I don’t want you to miss it.”

  Brody got it. Ragar had come through with someone to guard Sherra when the weekend was over. Sherra wouldn’t like it, but Brody would deliver no alternate plan—although he would want to meet the bodyguard to make sure the guy appeared competent.

  “Great,” Brody said. “When will Roy arrive?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon. That way you can spend a little time with him before you leave.”

  And deal with Sherra’s expected backlash.

  “Sounds good,” Brody said. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow and we’ll discuss my plans for Monday.”

  “Good.” Ragar hung up.

  Brody glanced at his watch. Sherra had been in the dressing room long enough. He’d need an unobtrusive way to check on her if she didn’t come out soon.

  Sherra emerged from the dressing room just then holding only a couple of hangers, one with a shirt and one with jeans. All looked well, and there was no one close to her.

  Even so, Brody carefully scanned the area for anomalies. No one appeared suspicious, but sometimes the deadliest attackers looked the most innocent.

  He walked toward her as she approached the nearest checkout line. They had been here long enough, although if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee or a snack at the food court that was okay—as long as he remained on alert.

  Afterward, they’d return to the house.

  Only then would he tell her who they were expecting tomorrow, and why.

  * * *

  Sherra understood why this was happening, but she didn’t like it.

  It was Sunday afternoon. They sat in the living room of the house. As had become their habit, she was on one end of the fraying couch, with Brody, aka Bill, on the other.

  Facing them, in a chair with a poorly upholstered seat from the nearby dining room, was the guy she’d been told to refer to as Roy Bradshaw, Bill’s cousin. She had no idea who he really was. He appeared to be in his forties, a little beefy in his sweatshirt—or maybe that was all muscle, since he was supposed to be her bodyguard.

  She didn’t need a bodyguard. At least she didn’t want to need one.

  Roy’s head was shaved but there was a hint of a dark hairline far back from his forehead. At the moment, he was talking logistics for the next few days with Brody.

  She hated the whole situation. How long was she going to have to do penance for her admittedly shady computer research?

  As soon as Roy arrived, they’d used a gadget to scan the room, and the entire house, for bugs. Again. Brody had done it several times before. Since all seemed well, they didn’t have to act like their cover personas.

  Brody and Roy—or whoever he was—were discussing that Brody would stay away for a couple of days but remain in close touch.

/>   Meanwhile, Sherra would be there, in Glen Burnie, away from where she’d been found by whoever attacked her. That should give Brody more leeway to find his target and get answers. Who within that government contractor’s company had tried to cover up shoddy workmanship and bribery—and murder—in Afghanistan?

  It sounded so easy the way these two macho men discussed it.

  It also sounded dangerous for Brody. He was the one who needed a bodyguard, not her.

  “So you’re okay with all this?” Roy asked. Both men looked at her, waiting for her response.

  “Sure,” she told them.

  That was a lie. She wasn’t okay with any of it. But she could at least hope this Roy wasn’t nearly as astute as Brody.

  She would stay here tomorrow, sure. She’d need to get in touch with her employer again to confirm additional sick time, and she’d make sure Brody was okay with how she handled that.

  But once Brody was out of here tomorrow, she would do what she did best: research. On her computer if he left it, and on her own hidden personal smart phone if he didn’t. Brody would hate it. But she was determined to help resolve this difficult situation as fast as possible.

  Now that she knew for certain that Brody’s target was All For Defense, she’d conduct her own form of deep research into the government contractor to help him, whether or not he wanted her assistance.

  She would be cautious. She would cover her tracks well so no one would know anyone was hacking, least of all that it was her.

  Only after things were fixed and Brody’s assignment was completed could she feel comfortable about returning home.

  But she would return home. Soon. With or without Brody’s approval.

  One way or another they were heading for a separation, permanent this time despite the fact they would both be alive.

  But her heart withered at the thought that this time she would definitely never see him again.

  * * *

  Sherra had assumed Brody would leave that evening to return to what passed for his life these days—or at least Jim Martin’s life.

  Instead, he hung around. She let him deal with dinner. Why should she cook when she disliked everything going on around her—and had no choice about being here?

  He sent Roy out for chicken dinners from a fast food joint not far away.

  That left her alone with Brody for a little while—for the last time?

  She didn’t want to think about that, but she thought about nothing else. As a result, she went onto the wooden deck in back and stared over the water.

  She knew exactly when Brody joined her. She didn’t need to hear his footsteps resonate on the wood. She felt him.

  She shivered slightly. Why didn’t he just leave her alone? He was leaving her anyway, tomorrow.

  “Are you okay with all this?”

  She turned to stare. “You’re joking. I’m not okay with any of it.”

  His brilliant amber eyes bored into her for a moment as if he wanted to use them to drill sense into her brain. But then he shook his head slowly.

  “Me, neither. Not really. I didn’t start this. But I sure as hell can’t give up till it’s resolved and whoever’s behind it is stopped.”

  His expression looked unguarded, full of anguish and anger.

  Sherra couldn’t help it. She took a few steps to close the gap between them. She reached toward him, taking his warm, angular face in her hands, feeling the evening shadow graze her palms as she drew him closer.

  And kissed him.

  Chapter 12

  Brody didn’t want to feel better. He wanted to feel the anger at himself that Sherra should be pouring all over him.

  Instead, he let himself savor the touch of her lips on his, the way she drew him down to deepen the kiss.

  The stroke of her tongue seeking passage into his mouth, which he opened for her.

  “Brody,” she whispered against him.

  His brain reacted finally. “Let’s go inside.”

  He used his body to back her through the doorway and into the kitchen. He closed the sliding glass door and the drapes with one hand as his other arm wrapped around Sherra, drawing her close, so close that his body tightened and reacted all over.

  Her hands were on his back, moving downward to cup his buttocks outside his pants. He moved away just enough to throw an arm around her shoulder. “My bedroom’s closest,” he announced hoarsely.

  In moments that felt like eons, they were inside. He shut the door, glad the nearest shopping area was a distance from this waterfront residential area; Roy wouldn’t be back for a while.

  Sherra’s thoughts must also have been on their lunacy and how fast they’d have to act to avoid getting caught. “It’ll have to be a quickie,” she breathed against him, and he felt her smiling even as she kissed him deeply once more.

  They threw themselves onto his bed. He stripped her fast, reveling in the pleasure as she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off his clothes, too. He looked down at her beautiful body and watched his hands cup her breasts before moving downward.

  She gasped as his mouth sucked in one nipple, then the other, but kept her fingers busy, stroking him.

  This was foolish.

  He protected them both by removing a condom from the drawer of his beside table. She grabbed it and appeared to enjoy teasing him by putting it on him slowly.

  Then, at last, he was inside her. The sensation was intense. Incredible. Wonderful.

  Perhaps even more so because he knew, on some level, that it had to be the last time. Maybe forever.

  Hearing her gasp and moan sent him over the edge to his fulfillment. He held her all the tighter as he groaned her name.

  He didn’t want to let her go, though it was over. Maybe because it was over.

  But sanity won out. “Let’s get dressed quick.” He looked down at her soft, hazy, beautiful face. “We won’t be alone much longer.”

  * * *

  That night, Sherra barely slept. Brody was down the hall—most likely also remembering their lovemaking.

  But also down the hall was the man known as Roy Bradshaw, her supposed handler.

  Shortly after six the next morning, she hopped out of bed, showered, threw on a shirt and jeans, then hurried out of her room.

  The two men were already in the kitchen, at the small table in its center eating cereal and talking in low voices she was not meant to overhear.

  “You’re up already,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “And you’ve made coffee. Great.” She hurried to the counter and poured a cup.

  “Glad you’re awake.” Brody stood and approached. “I’m about to leave.”

  He wore a button-down shirt and dressy slacks. His usually angular features were a bit less sharp this morning, and Sherra figured she had been correct in her belief that he wouldn’t sleep any better than she did. For the first time in days, he wore glasses.

  “Fine. Have a good day. Week. Whatever.” She kept her tone offhand, not suggesting the conflicting emotions ricocheting inside her.

  “I’ll be in touch.” His voice contained no more emotion than hers. But the amber glow in his eyes had dulled into something resembling pain.

  Was she imagining that? Illogically reading her own pain into his expression?

  “I’ll look forward to it,” she said lightly. She grew more serious. “Be careful, Brody. I may not understand all you’re doing or why, but I know it’s dangerous. Stay safe.”

  And come back to me, she wanted to say but didn’t. She wouldn’t be here for him to come back to. And although he was well aware of where her condo was, and her job, too, he’d undoubtedly wind up too angry to just drop back into her life on any friendly basis.

  She wouldn’t allow him back in on any other basis.


  He leaned toward her. For a moment, she thought he was about to kiss her, and she closed her eyes in eager anticipation.

  Instead, he whispered into her ear, “Don’t do anything foolish, Sherra. Listen to Roy. He’s here to help you and has your best interests in mind. And despite what I’m sure you’re thinking, you can’t get back onto the computer when I’m not here. Got that?”

  She stepped back and glared up at him, knowing the sudden fury that shot through her like flames from an arson fire must be obvious from her expression. “I hear you,” she spat.

  That didn’t mean she would obey.

  “In case you’ve got anything else in mind,” Brody said softly, “just try to find your laptop. And your phone.”

  “Damn you, Brody!”

  “See ya.” He waved at Roy and left the room.

  * * *

  Sherra wasn’t stupid. But she was determined.

  She might not have her laptop to play with, but she did have that extra smart phone she had forgotten—not—to tell Brody about.

  “So what would you like to talk about, cousin-in-law, dear?” she asked Roy sarcastically when they were alone. “More breakfast? Coffee? What’ll it take for you to leave me alone if I hang out in my bedroom? Better yet, what’ll it take to get you to leave altogether?”

  Her beefy ostensible bodyguard gave a smile that sent shivers up her body. He was supposed to protect her? He was probably also supposed to make sure she obeyed Brody’s orders. Brody must trust him. Then why did he give her the willies just by the way he looked at her?

  Maybe it was the way he also scanned her body with his eyes before stopping his gaze once more on her face.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” His slow drawl did nothing to alleviate her discomfort. “I’m here to take care of you.”

  She heard the double entendre and rose. “Well, I don’t have to take care of you. I’ll be in my room if anything exciting happens.”

  She almost kicked herself as she hurried down the hall, a cup of coffee shaking in her hand. The last thing she wanted was for anything exciting to happen, especially while trapped here with Roy the Repulsive.