1. Weekend Warriors

by Fern Michaels

  Today, in just minutes, she had to climb into her little Mini Cooper and head out to McLean, Virginia. There at Nicole’s adopted mother’s palatial estate, she would join the other members of the Sisterhood. She’d joined a year ago, again, with Nicole Quinn’s help. The Sisterhood wasn’t just any organization. Myra Rutledge had formed the organization after her daughter was run down and had been killed by a diplomat’s son. With the aid of Nikki’s legal expertise, Myra formed the Sisterhood to help women get the justice and the revenge they deserved even if it meant going outside the law to do so.

  The Sisterhood consisted of six women, seven if you counted Myra, all recruited by Nikki. They’d gone on one mission so far and it had been successful. At the end of that successful mission, they’d drawn names to see whose case would be next. Alexis’s name — not her real name of course — had been drawn from the cardboard shoe box.

  But she wasn’t ready yet to seek the justice she deserved. She needed more time to wallow in her misery and to build up her strength and resilience. She didn’t know why that was, it just was. She would have to tell the sisters they needed to choose someone else for the second mission. She knew in her gut she was still too fragile, too broken with her thirteen month stint in the federal pen. She tugged at her lavender dress, straightening it over her slim hips. The dress was one she’d chosen from her pitiful wardrobe and a knockoff to boot. It went well with her brown skin and dark hair. She’d chosen the dress because she thought she looked best in pastels. The days were long gone when she didn’t think twice about buying high-end designer clothes. Everything from her past was gone. Every damn thing she cared about. Even her dog.

  Alexis started to shake when she tried to imagine what the other sisters would say when she told them she wasn’t ready for her mission. Kathryn, the most verbal and the toughest of them all, in her opinion, would narrow her eyes and tell her to grow up and get with the program. Isabelle, who saw things other people didn’t see, meaning of course that she was psychic, would shrug and close her eyes maybe in the hope of conjuring up the reason for Alexis’s pass on the mission. Julia, a retired plastic surgeon, who had contacted AIDS from her philandering senator husband, would stare at her as if she were a speck under a microscope. She’d say, “You need to make those bastards pay for what they did to you and get on with your life because you have a life to get on with.” Yoko would nod and say she understood, whether she did or not. Nikki would use logic to try to convince her to take the bull by the horns, and Myra, sweet, gentle woman that she was, would smile wanly and say, “Honey, if you aren’t ready then you aren’t ready and we’ll choose one of the other sisters.” At which point she’d feel like a fool and probably start to cry. The others would look at her with disgust and she’d cry harder. They might even become so disgusted with her they’d try to drum her out of the Sisterhood.

  She’d done so well with Kathryn’s mission. It couldn’t have succeeded without her expertise. She could take nothing and transform it into something wonderful and exciting. She was a master with a makeup brush and she knew it. Costume design was something she loved doing. Nikki said she was a master at that, too. She’d been so proud when Nikki had said that. All the sisters had complimented her. So, what the hell was her problem?

  Alexis eyed her suitcase by the front door, and then let her gaze go to what the sisters called her Red Bag of Tricks complete with everything she needed to alter a person’s being. Makeup, spirit gum, latex, costumes, wigs, glasses. She had the talent to take an ordinary person and transform them into a movie star. Where she’d come by this particular talent, she had no idea. Everything in the Red Bag had been updated or replenished by Myra.

  Alexis looked at her watch. Time to get on the road. The Sisterhood’s hosts, Myra Rutledge and Charles Martin didn’t like to be kept waiting. She smiled when she thought of Charles, Myra’s right-hand man, and the one who planned each mission. Charles was an ex-British M16 operative who had once worked for the Queen on the other side of the pond until he’d been compromised. In the spook world, according to Charles, the bad guys had found out who he was and steps had to be taken to keep him safe. Now he worked for and lived with Myra. Charles always said being a superspy for Her Majesty had equipped him to head up the Sisterhood. On top of all his other accomplishments, Charles was a gourmet cook. Alexis felt her mouth start to water at some of the wonderful meals he’d cooked for all of them. Today, she hoped, would be something just as wonderful.

  Suitcase in one hand, the Red Bag of Tricks in the other, Alexis still somehow managed to lock the flimsy door of her apartment. She didn’t look back because there was nothing to see except a bunch of shabby, secondhand furniture. She hadn’t felt the need to buy new furniture, preferring to bank all her money until she was sure where she was going with her life.

  Alexis tossed her suitcase into the back of the Mini Cooper, then climbed behind the wheel. Before she turned the key in the ignition, Alexis looked around the ratty looking neighborhood and the building she lived in. They should just demolish the entire three blocks. Once she’d lived in a pretty little house with window boxes and flowers on her front porch. She had furniture that she’d saved for, beautiful linens, fine dishes and crystal. And she’d had a dog she’d loved dearly. It was all gone now, sold to pay her legal fees. She’d been told that one of the security officers who arrested her had taken her dog.

  If anyone should be ready for revenge, it was she. She knew in her heart of hearts, deep in her gut, that the two partners who framed her for their own crime did it because she was a black securities broker. She’d been careful not to play the race card in her defense. Now, she wished she had. Maybe her problem was that she couldn’t come up with a suitable revenge that would make her whole again. Nothing she could come up with was bad enough, horrible enough, ugly enough to make her whole. Death was the only thing she could come up with but that wasn’t an option. She had no desire to go to prison again.

  Ever.

  The engine of the Mini Cooper turned over and Alexis drove down the road to the highway. Another glance at her watch told her she had just enough time to make it to McLean. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It would be good to see the sisters again.

  As she drove away, Alexis noticed for the first time that spring had really arrived. The trees were dressed in their fledgling greenery, and here and there she could see flowers buds. Spring. A new beginning. She crossed her fingers the way she had when she was a child. Maybe this spring would be a new beginning for her.

  As the miles ticked by, Alexis settled herself more comfortably in the driver’s seat. She felt better already.

  Myra Rutledge, Charles at her side, stood under the portico and watched the cars inch their way through the open gates. Her smile rivaled the sun. “They’re here, Charles! Every single one of them. I was so afraid they might have second thoughts. They look wonderful, don’t they? I love the way they poke one another and make each other laugh. I am so relieved that they all get along just like real flesh and blood sisters.”

  Charles beamed! “Luv, they are beyond wonderful. Julia looks particularly good, don’t you think?”

  “For now, she’s in remission, but yes, she looks wonderful, just awfully thin. Look how they’re all smiling, Charles. That means they’re glad to be here. Turn off the power to the gate. We don’t want any intruders today.” Myra’s voice dropped to a whisper when she said, “Nikki didn’t say anything about…”

  “No, Nikki didn’t mention Assistant District Attorney Jack Emery at all. I didn’t want to open any old wounds by asking. They broke off their personal relationship and as such, Nikki is touchy on the subject of Jack Emery.”

  “A District Attorney prowling around here with binoculars makes me worry, Charles. I know Nikki is still in love with him. I also know Jack Emery is not going to give up. He suspects that we were responsible for Marie Lewellen’s disappearance. He told Nikki so. That’s why the two of them are estranged. They were on opposi
te sides of that case. He’s trying to…to…get the goods on us, Charles.”

  Charles patted Myra’s hand. “Not to worry, my dear. That will never happen. I want you to trust me.”

  Myra stared into Charles’s bright blue eyes. God, how she loved this man, her daughter’s father. “I do, Charles. I do. Now, let’s welcome our new little family.

  “Girls! Girls! Welcome back to Pinewood! Charles prepared lunch for all of us and we’ll have it on the patio. Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she said, opening her arms wide to gather all the young women close.

  Murphy, Kathryn’s dog, barked sharply for attention. Myra laughed. “You, too, Murphy. Charles fixed you a special treat.” The big shepherd dog literally purred at her words.

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  Copyright © 2003 by Fern Michaels. Published by arrangement with Severn House Publishers, Ltd.

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  ISBN: 1-4201-0271-0