by Jane Cousins
“Good to have you back, Buchanan. Oh, and don’t forget the twins’ birthday party is coming up.”
Brodie shook her head, a party, no, she couldn’t possibly go. “I-”
“You promised the girls.” Stephanie reminded. And it would be the perfect time to question Brodie further, after she’d had the opportunity to work through all her emotions on the battlefield. She’d get some drinks and cake into her friend, and insist she spill her guts.
“Fine, I’ll be there.” Brodie headed for the door on stiff legs, her boots hitting the carpet with loud thuds. At the door she turned, gaze boring into Stephanie. “Just no more holidays.”
* * *
Two weeks later…
Stephanie fought not to sigh. At least arranging the twins’ party over the phone meant she was in no danger of wringing the caterer’s neck.
“No, the Mexican buffet will be set up in the dining room. The kitchen needs to be free for the tempura chefs.”
She watched as Helgastein Gerwitz stomped in to her office with an impressively large wad of documents in her hands. Her secretary’s dour expression never wavered, but there was a distinct gleam in her dark eyes. Oh, oh, what ever was in those files couldn’t be good news.
“Ah, look Gavin, I’m going to have to call you back. Yes, the barbeque grills are to be set up on the patio next to the second bar. Oh, and I want a progress report on the cake…. Of course I know it looks very round, it’s a soccer ball after all.” Stephanie hung up, smoothing back a stray wisp of pale blonde hair, sending Helgastein an enquiring look.
Thumping down the files. Her secretary made a humfphing noise, signalling she was unimpressed. Wearing a dark grey sweater, matching skirt and thick tights, Helgastein was the picture of sturdy dependability. Her grey hair arranged in two thick braids that she’d wound around the crown of her head. “Tempura chefs?”
Stephanie waved off the question. “Don’t worry, there will be plenty of your favourite ale on tap. What are these?” She looked dubiously at the large wad of documents.
A fleeting smile ghosted across Helgastein’s square face, apprehension gripped Stephanie. She really wasn’t going to like this.
“These are the latest complaints concerning Brodie Buchanan.”
“You’re kidding?” Stephanie reached for the pile. “All of them? Well just dump them in her file, would you?”
Helgastein shook her head. “You need to read them. They’re different from the last lot of complaints, they’re… well, read them for yourself, you’ll see.”
With that, her secretary turned and stomped back through the doors to her desk located out in the reception area. Best guard dog she could ask for, given that Helgastein wielded two truly impressive broadswords. Only problem was that the sturdy, older Valkyrie often seemed to forget who the boss was. Sighing, knowing she’d better do as she was told, Stephanie bent her head to start reading the complaints.
Half and hour later, Stephanie was massaging her temples. Helgastein was right… as always, not that she’d ever let her secretary hear her say those words. These complaints were certainly… different. Tipping her chair back, Stephanie lifted her feet, crossing them at the ankle, resting her heels on the edge of her desk. The bright raspberry coloured espadrilles mocked her.
She thought she’d been doing the right thing by insisting Brodie go on holiday, take a break. But obviously she’d only succeeded in making things a lot worse. Yet what was specifically up with Brodie, no one could seem to pin down. Except she had gone very, very quiet.
She’s so quiet… and she looks at you… through you… I can’t explain it, but it’s really freaking me out. That complaint, or very similar, had come from several highly decorated battle veterans.
From the faintly embarrassed overtones in the reports, even those making them knew they sounded vaguely ridiculous. She keeps staring into the fire every night, with this half murderous, half amused look on her face. We’ve all started sleeping with our weapons.
Then an Earth week ago, the battle commander reported that Brodie received a wedding invitation in the mail and had started laughing uncontrollably for several minutes. Scaring the crap out of the majority of the newbies on the campaign.
When asked about the invitation, Brodie’s only response had been to declare that all Vulcans were dickheads.
When Lena, Brodie’s best friend, and recently married to a Vulcan, had asked her to explain. Brodie had shrugged, told Lena to think back on when she’d first met Soldan. According to the field commander, Lena laughed, agreed, and then shared a pint of ale with Brodie.
With two Earth weeks of fighting under her gold plated skirt, which translated to eight months on the battle plains, Brodie showed no sign of letting up on her strangely intense behaviour.
Stealing kills from other Valkyries. Decimating entire legions by herself. Fast, deadly and silent. No war cries. No victory declarations. Or celebrations for that matter.
According to the reports, Brodie would do little more than scan the field to ensure none of the enemy were still moving. Wipe the gore from her swords once she’d confirmed complete annihilation, and immediately Portal to the Assignment’s Desk and demand a new battle placement.
Anyone who got in her way, accused her of being selfish, or protested her dramatically sharp rise in kill rates, found themselves on the receiving end of a very intense stare. More than one Valkyrie had written in their complaint. Then I found myself stammering out an apology… when she was the one at fault. But I just wanted her to stop looking at me like that, anything to get her to stop looking at me.
Stephanie sighed again. It was clear Brodie was in pain. Working through some stuff. Problem was, if she didn’t get over her bad ass self soon, there would be a Valkyrie revolt.
And Brodie was pissed off enough on the battlefield, if she could no longer fight… well, the World would suffer.
But how to fix her friend? She’d already interfered once. Apparently making things ten times worse. Grrr, it was days like these that Stephanie wished she was back on the battle plains, things were a lot simpler there, no management issues and no high maintenance caterers.
Dropping her espadrille covered feet to the floor, Stephanie smoothed down her white capri pants before tucking in her t-shirt. Ensuring the checked raspberry, pink and white material clung tightly to her impressive rack. Okay. She reached up to adjust her pony-tail. Brodie wasn’t going to be happy about being yanked out of the field for a chat. But that was just too bad, she’d been indulged enough.
Still, Stephanie’s finger hesitated over the intercom switch… hmm, the thing of it was, she had a sneaky suspicion that Brodie was nursing a broken heart. The chilly, silent attitude. The look in her eyes when she’d admitted she’d had sex… as if it had been something more than just a physical act. And then there was all this talk about Vulcans.
Two and two was definitely pointing suspiciously towards matters of the heart.
And Brodie wasn’t a dig into a pint of ice cream and pour her heart out kind of gal. Seriously, all this time on the battle plains, killing things, that should have been helping. It was just the kind of therapy Brodie required. Except it didn’t appear to be having any positive affect at all.
So what the hell could Stephanie possibly hope to achieve by merely talking to her? Except perhaps to end up on the receiving end of that widely publicised unnerving stare.
Hmm, maybe she should have her war hatchets at the ready.
Stephanie knew she was procrastinating. Grr, pulling back her shoulders, thrusting out her chest, she once more reached for the intercom button… a loud bang echoing from the reception area halting the progress of her finger. Oh, thank, Freyja.
More thuds sounded and then loud voices… one of them male, here? At Valkyrie Headquarters? Unusual. Oh well, she would look forward to watching the security tapes of a dozen Valkyries kicking them out on their ass.
Or, if the man was lucky, or should that be unlucky enough to survive the security gau
ntlet to get to her office, then he would have to deal with Helgastein. Which was unheard of. Though it made Stephanie smile to consider such a bizarre occurrence.
Stephanie couldn’t help but jump slightly at a particularly loud thud, followed by a crash, more yelling, and the sudden appearance of a wickedly sharp point of a broadsword exploding out of the middle of one of her office double doors. Now, that was interesting.
She would recognise that broadsword anywhere, it belonged to Helgastein. Someone had managed to separate her secretary from one of her beloved swords? Impressive.
Resisting the urge to call her war hatchets and join the fun, Stephanie clasped her hands together and placed them on the desk in front of her and waited. For her trouble, it wasn’t long. Maybe fifteen seconds or so before her office doors were flung open, the broadsword thrust into the thick wood making a thrumming sound as it vibrated.
The man who stepped through was a surprise. And not just because Helgastein Gerwitz was draped over one of his broad shoulders. Stephanie prayed with her entire being that the security cameras in her office were recording the event.
“You’re not a Vulcan.”
The handsome man, his eyes gleaming a bright blue, fixed his gaze on her, striding forward he dumped Helgastein on to the thick carpet, in a surprisingly gentle manner. “All Vulcans are douchebags.”
“That does appear to be the general consensus of late.” Stephanie eyed the intruder. Very male, wearing a navy t-shirt and faded denim jeans and sturdy brown boots. He was about six feet in height, muscular broad chest, tanned skin, good jaw, really pretty bright blue eyes, and short, dark brown hair that was giving off glints of red.
“Can we talk in private?”
Stephanie glanced down at an unconscious Helgastein. “Well…”
The man raised a hand and a hard controlled gust of wind rolled Helgastein out in to the reception area like she was nothing more than an ungainly grey sack of potatoes. Stephanie prayed to Freyja herself, oh, please let the security cameras have captured that.
Her mystery guest gave another slight wave of his hand and the two sturdy wooden doors swung shut. The sword piercing the door making a thrumming sound as it vibrated in place. Damn, their Insurance Company was not going to be happy with this latest claim. When Helgastein regained consciousness, she’d have her put a call into maintenance for a patch job.
“Won’t you take a seat…?”
“Fen. Fen Valhalla.”
Stephanie’s breath caught in her throat. “Any… any relation to those Valhallas?”
“Yes. But that’s not important right now. I came here today for your help.”
“My help?”
“I need to get in touch with Brodie Buchanan.”
And just like that it all came together. Stephanie had been right about Brodie’s broken heart, just not about who had caused it. “And just why would I help you? I’m not just Brodie’s boss, I’m her friend. You hurt her, why would you think I would let you anywhere near her?”
“I didn’t hurt her.” Fen frowned for a brief moment. “At least I don’t think I did. Look, it’s complicated, what happened between us. We… she and I…” Fen shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.
Fen was a guy. He didn’t like sharing his feelings at the best of times. And he didn’t know this woman sitting across the desk, this Stephanie that Brodie had mentioned. He wasn’t stupid enough to fall for the blonde bimbo exterior, he knew beneath the carefully constructed façade was a lethal, highly trained, killing machine.
Man, he was desperate. After two weeks of brooding over Brodie. Reliving every moment they’d spent together. Analysing and picking apart every conversation they’d had. Every look they’d shared. He’d come to an astonishing conclusion. He was a fool. An outright stupid fool to have let Brodie slip through his fingers.
So what if they came from two completely different worlds. Big deal if both of them tackled their work with laser focused intensity. They couldn’t work all the time. And perhaps if they were both willing to compromise a little here, a little there, they might sync up their schedules and make some sort of life together.
Because that’s what he wanted from Brodie, commitment. He loved her. And he didn’t think he was alone in having feelings.
Brodie was definitely physically attracted to him. She’d had plenty of time and opportunity to stalk and proposition other guys whilst she’d been at the Sanctuary. Less complicated, easier targets, who didn’t put up barriers and claim they were celibate because they were too fucking scared to pursue a full and meaningful life.
But no, Brodie had never gone elsewhere for an easy lay. She’d hounded him, tenaciously. And Fen was sure, given enough time he could turn Brodie’s physical attraction to him into something more… maybe not love, but he’d settle for affection. He’d settle for anything Brodie was prepared to give him as long as she let him into her life.
“Well?” Stephanie arched a fine, dark blonde eyebrow. “You’d better start talking fast Fen Valhalla, if you want my help with Brodie, because from the sound of it, security have finally gotten off their asses, regrouped and are headed this way.”
Fen blew out a frustrated breath. “You could call them off.”
“I could.” Stephanie continued to stare at him intently.
“But you won’t.” Fen shook his head. Valkyries, they were a law unto themselves. “All I need is a chance to talk to Brodie.”
“Why? You have to give me something Valhalla, why the hell would I go out of my way to help you? I don’t know you.”
Fen gritted his teeth. Damn it, he was going to have to spill his guts. “I met Brodie in the Southern Sanctuary…” Fen frowned, the muffled thud of approaching boots was distracting. Any moment now security would be pounding on that door interrupting him. With a wave of his hand the sword piercing the door disappeared suddenly, followed by muffled yelling and curses. That should buy him a few more minutes. “You were the one who sent her there on holiday, with very strict instructions I believe on how to relax.”
Stephanie smiled. “So you’re the one she hooked up with?”
“No. Well, yes, but no.”
Stephanie didn’t know whether to frown or smile. “It’s fairly simple. Did you or did you not have sex?”
“Not the first few times she asked me, no.” Fen ran his fingers through his thick, short hair. “It’s kind of complicated. And quite frankly, none of your business. What is your business, as her friend, is that I love her.”
Hmmm, yeah, Stephanie could believe that. A man who would risk his life to invade the Headquarters of notorious - for hire - battle mongers. A man who would say no to sex with a Valkyrie. Fen Valhalla was a unique man indeed. “Then the question is, how does Brodie feel about you?”
“I’m pretty sure she likes me. And I intend to build on that.”
“You think she likes you?” Stephanie had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. This explained everything. The hot guy. The complications. The fact that Brodie didn’t do emotions well, which probably explained her running back here, going silent and a little crazy.
“I-”
“Hold that thought.” Stephanie leaned across to hit the intercom button. “They’ll be ready to charge the doors about now. Stand down!” She instructed into the speaker. “Okay Fen Valhalla, it’s decided. I’m going to help you.” Stephanie opened her top drawer and pulled out a green, black and white slip of paper, sliding it across the desk towards Fen.
“A party invitation?” Fen picked it up.
“Yes. Brodie will be attending. I suggest you arrive about two hours after it kicks off. And don’t skimp on the presents.”
Fen grinned with relief. “Thanks. Thanks for everything.”
“If it blows up, you don’t know me, and we never had this discussion.”
“Understood. What are your… daughters in to?”
Stephanie shrugged. “They’re just your average fourteen-year-old Valkyries in waiting.�
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“Got it. Something sharp and lethal it is. See you Saturday.” Fen stood up, clutching the invitation tightly.
Stephanie accompanied him into the reception area, waving off any interference from security so that Fen could exit the building. After he’d disappeared into the elevator, Stephanie turned to assess Helgastein who was now sitting at her desk, looking a little ruffled and flushed.
“So that was Brodie’s beau?” Helgastein rubbed at the bruise on her jaw.
“You okay?”
“This little love tap? Nah, it’s nothing, the boy was just flirting with me. If I was twenty years younger he’d have to watch himself.”
Stephanie just managed to hold back a snort of derision. Twenty years? Who was Helgastein kidding, more like sixty.
“So, are you going to help him, the boy?” Helgastein shifted her attention to her beloved broadsword, studying it for any knicks or damage.
“I already have. I gave him an invitation to the twins’ birthday party.”
Helgastein shook her head, making a soft tsking sound under her breath. “Honestly, you’re such a soft touch, next you’ll be suggesting we organise a secret Santa for Christmas.”
Stephanie’s smile broadened into a grin as she eyed her dour secretary. “What a wonderful idea, and I have just the perfect person in mind to organise it for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brodie, standing in Stephanie’s crowded living room, grimly did her best to ignore the three women standing at the other end of the bar. They’d been eyeing her for the last few minutes, and appeared to be under the misapprehension she was deaf.
“She must be one of the plus-size models, no way could she walk a haute couture runway. Not with those tits and that large ass.” The nasal blonde commented, tossing her head back in derision. Obviously proud of her own flat, scrawny ass.
“She does look familiar.” The short redhead commented. “I think she did those Bvlgari jewellery ads. You know, the ones where the model is wearing that stunning topaz choker and is draped naked over a lion. I’m pretty sure she’s the one.”