by James, Ranay
He felt and heard her resolve.
“Till death do us part?” he spoke softly as if mulling it over out loud. Looking away, he found he could not face her. “Maybe not such a great vow after all, huh,” he questioned as he took a drink from his coffee cup, hoping to wash down the words that were lodged in his throat.
“Not in our case, no. Probably should have left that one off. Right along with love, honor, and obey,” she lightly teased. “I’m thinking those will be tough to live up to for us.”
He grunted in reply.
Not meeting her gaze, she studied his profile. He was six years younger than her, but he had lived hard and fast. His life was such a contrast to her very private and quiet personal life. She had lived her life in the C.I.A. with her fair share of close calls and life-threatening scrapes; she sported the scars and medical records to prove it, too. Now, she just wanted to settle back. He, on the other hand, grabbed life by the balls and just did not let up.
Maybe, she was a little jealous. Then maybe not, she decided.
The lines around his eyes and hard look to his body could only come from playing hard. Extreme sports were his first love. Cliff diving, sky diving, and extreme vertical skiing were just a few of those sports he practiced. Many thought Mason McKinnon had a death wish. She saw through that, seeing a different wish. He just had a life wish, sucking up as much of life as he could. Not that she agreed with all his tactics, but she could see it. It just wasn’t for her. Whether she like him or not was irrelevant because she worried for his safety regardless. He was Robert’s brother, she reasoned. It would kill Robert and Chase if anything ever happened to Mason. Furthermore, from her perspective, he was a huge asset to the company. She also admitted he was not totally unlovable even if she didn’t really like his lifestyle.
She was sure he did his fair share of hard partying, but he took care of himself too. It was a prerequisite of the job they did for a living. Still, there was no denying Mason lived it up and it was beginning to tell on him. He was, in her opinion, the best looking of the McKinnon men going all the way back to 1499 and the patriarch, Nic McKinnon. But he was beginning to look older than his twenty-eight years. Eventually, some jealous boyfriend or husband was not going to take kindly to Mason flirting with his woman, no matter if Mason felt it innocent. Like James Dean, she feared he might wake up dead one day from living life in the fast lane. His sky diving chute might not open at ten thousand feet or his racing bike might crash with him doing a hundred and twenty on a hairpin curve. There were a lot of other ways for them to depart each other's company caused by death, and Del Torres would have absolutely nothing to do with it.
She looked down at her tennis shoes.
She was thinking about Jesse and how scared the girl must be. Her mother dead at her step-father’s hand, her mother’s lover holding her hostage at gun point, she must be scared to death.
Mason was watching her. He could see she was focusing on something intently as her brow furrowed in the tell-tale 11 between bright and intelligent blue eyes. None of the girls he dated had any wrinkles on their face. It was either youth or botox, but either way lines of expression did not exist. He had always felt Barbara cool, but never unemotional. Some of the fights they had over the years were full of highly charged feelings. He tried to remember if any of those feelings were positive. He could not remember any except that morning when she was sitting in his lap. Her scent washed over him, giving him a feeling of belonging and comfort. That was right before she had told him to go to hell. He would never figure her out.
He knew she questioned and did not approve his lifestyle or his refusal to grow up. It chapped him that she judged his life decisions. Maybe he did not want to grow up? In actuality seeing no real reason to change, he just did what he wanted when he wanted. He supported his obligations, did his work when asked, and risked his neck for others on assignments. He fell in line when necessary with his missions for McKinnon-Bride. His personal life just was not where he needed to keep it high and tight. He liked his life just fine.
Barbara on the other hand was so private he knew absolutely nothing about her, not that he had ever really asked and what little he did know to this point, he was questioning the validity and truthfulness of it.
She was a retired C.I.A. field operative. That was a total shock. She was his boss, another total shock. She was a college graduate, not so much a shock now that he gave it credible thought. He had never questioned her intelligence. How old was she? She was retired from the C.I.A., but there was no way that she was old enough for that, so her retirement must have been medical rather than age forcing her out. His best guess was she was in her mid-thirties. But she looked really good with great skin. She felt soft and touchable from what he remembered earlier when he held her face to kiss her. Where was she from? What had life dished out fot her? How had she come to be at McKinnon-Bride? She had never been open with him. Frozen, detached and unyielding maybe, but never was she open or straightforward. Nevertheless, he was beginning to see small glimpses of what Barbara Allen Bride really was all about. Sharp as a knife just scratched the surface. Fearless, honorable, and courageous was also in the offering. He conceded those were not bad things to have in the lineup.
She surprised him by snapping her head up to face him.
“I know we have never really been on the same side of the sheet, but we can do this, Mason. We are professionals and training will dictate that I have your back and you have mine once the chips are down. We are in this together for better or worse.” She laughed ironically at the fact their “vows” also included that catch phrase. “And we may have to come to the conclusion till death do us part may be part of it.”
Immediately, the idea was not acceptable to him.
“No, don’t even think that way,” he quickly ordered. He may not have a great love for her, but he also could not see a life without her around. She was as much a part of his life as Robert or any other family member.
She saw his denial written all over his face. “What we are doing is not child’s play, Mase. People die. It is a byproduct of what we do and who we are as operatives. These bastards have real guns and will use them liberally. And what's more is there are no ‘cut and let’s do a retake’ like a movie set. We get one shot here and Jesse is all that matters.”
He balked at her patronization, treating him as if this was his first assignment. “Don’t lecture me on the dangers of the job we do, Barbara. I, of all people, am fully aware. I may seem reckless with my own life and I probably am, but you stick with me and when the chips are down I’ll always be there for you. Call it honor, code, or whatever, but those under my care, custody, and control are my first priorities when I’m on a mission,” he told her not raising his voice above a low whisper.
“Maybe that was true with your troops or family, but does it extend to me,” she asked pointedly.
He paused. Did it extend to her past the job? He was beginning to have a little more respect for her and beginning to see what Robert saw in her. She was one of them. She was a warrior. She was soft and pretty on the outside, but cold hardened steel on the inside where it counted when things went bad in the field.
“It especially extends to family, and whether you like it or not, Barbara, that is what you are. You are my sister as much as Dark Man, Reese, Tango, and Sundown are my brothers. We are a band, tied together with a common rope called justice and honor.”
Then in her mind she corrected him. She could never look at him as a brother. Once they got their souvenir safely home, she would shed the excess family baggage. Robert had already offered to buy her out. She wondered more often lately if perhaps it was time she moved on. Maybe she would take him up on it.
Barbara hated to fly and her nerves were beginning to surface. It was not the take off or in-flight that killed her. It was the thought of having the ground coming up at her at more than one hundred and fifty miles an hour while landing. She intertwined her fingers with his and placed her ot
her hand over their locked hands.
He discreetly pulled away.
“It is our job, Barbie Doll. Don’t make it personal.”
“Screw you, playboy. This one is very personal,” she whispered into his ear just before running her fingers lovingly through his hair.
He managed not to pull back, and then covered his head with the ball cap. It matched the one Jesse had just placed onto her window three thousand miles away.
Chapter 6
Five hours later their flight touched down at Tocumen International Airport in Panama City, and a long black stretch limo was waiting to take them to their hotel. They passed through the city with little fanfare.
Mason noted the car following at the prerequisite discreet distance. Barbara only noticed the brightly colored painted homes with the beautiful balconies full of tropical flowers contrasting the ultra-modern skyscrapers. She had Mason to be the sentinel. If there were anything amiss, he would let her know. He never could turn the watchdog off, so why not enjoy herself as best as she could. Too soon things would be all business.
They were greeted warmly at the resort and casino. It took them forty minutes to get checked in because of a mix-up with the reservation. It had ceased to be fun for either of them as the bell hop finally agreed to take their luggage up to their suite.
At the moment, Barbara was hot, tired, and on edge from lack of food, and she prayed the suite had a hot tub, and mini snack and drink bar, and could care less if the room even had a bed. Opening the door to the suite, her attitude changed in the blink of an eye. The single queen sized bed screamed trouble. Robert assured them the room booked was a suite with two rooms and two double beds.
Mason paid the porter and shut the door. Seconds later she was at him.
“Not acceptable.” She reached for a piece of fruit left for them as a welcome gift. Barbara’s casual argument stemmed from knowing Robert probably did ask for a suite, but there was just some oversight. This certainly was not Mason's fault either. She took a bite of the apple. The crisp crunch could be heard above the silence Mason was giving her.
Mason turned after he threw the security lock. The last six hours had almost killed him. He had no idea her closeness would have such an effect on him. They had talked about small things, but not much as she quickly turned her attention to the book she was reading, and he did not want to intrude. Halfway through the flight they watched the in-flight movie having to share a single head set. It placed their heads almost touching and her soft laughter at the comedy touched him. He could not get off the flight fast enough, finding he was having issues keeping his eyes off her.
He reasoned he needed to find a willing woman and fast.
Even now, he watched the pulse softly beating at the base of her neck and wanted to take his lips and sample that flesh.
Damn Eve along with her apple, he thought. This is Barbara, he kept saying to himself, and he could barely control his urges. What the hell was wrong with that picture, he kept asking. As a result he was edgy.
“Let me guess. You currently sleep alone and are not about to change that here?”
His sarcasm did not phase her, having had years of practice ignoring him.
“Don’t be an ass, Mason. Please, call the manager.” Her demand was very clear and polite.
“No. Get over it, Doll.” His tone was condescending. “We are lucky to even have a room. I’m not going to argue with the front desk clerk, not over this. We are supposed to be on our honeymoon, which for normal people means sleeping together,” he popped off.
Now, she seethed hot. How he could be so indifferent of her physical discomfort of sleeping with a man she really did not wish to even touch with clothes on much less in her pajamas?
“Fine then.” She tossed her bag onto the bed angrily unzipping it with emphasis. “Sleep on the couch, the floor, the balcony, the first woman you find, I don’t care. You’re just not sleeping with me.”
“Oh, hell no! Not doing it.” Mason was very quick with commentary on the situation they found themselves. “I’ll be damned if you push me to the couch. You were the one who insisted on authenticity, Barbara. Well, guess what? You got it.” He dropped his bags on the floor for emphasis matching her emotional outburst. He was damned if he was going to lose sleep over this and because of her. “I sleep on the right hand side,” he said flopping down staking his claim. Leaning up against the headboard, he laced his fingers behind his head. It was a total act of defiance, begging her to buck him.
He was not a small man and took up more than his fair share of the bed, she saw.
“Good then I don’t have to face you. And not that it is any of your business, but for your information I have not slept alone in years.”
“Poor bastard,” his eyes were cold, meeting her boldly, and for a brief moment he felt jealousy ooze past his heart.
“Don't assume male, Mason.” Barbara was thinking about her little female maltese-poodle mix, Lula.
He could not have missed the intent if she had spelled it out in sparklers.
“Oh, Jeeez,” he said, then dropping his head back against the headboard, he closed his eyes against this new piece of information about Barbara’s private life. Now, how was he supposed to treat her in public? He wondered if Robert knew this little juicy personal tid-bit. “Well, just screw me twice,” he said softly.
“Not even once. Hate to disappoint you. I’m untouchable to you, Mason.” She was not going to correct him about his presumption of her sexual preference.
Damn shame, too, he admitted as he watched her pull the band out of her ponytail. She bent over at the waist and fluffed her fingers through her hair before flipping back upright. Then she pulled her top t-shirt off revealing a lacy, strappy, next-to-nothing undershirt underneath. She was beautiful, he admitted begrudgingly. Had Robert seen past her plain and ordinary disguise? Robert had said that before he met his wife Katherine, he had briefly wondered where it might go with them. Robert was not known for having ugly girlfriends. Neither was he for that matter. He was more discerning than Barbara gave him credit, but he did like his women young and attractive. He was a good looking man seeing no reason not to enjoy the finer pieces of feminine flesh. And Barbara was very alluring. He could appreciate the work she had expended to keep herself looking nice. Not overly thin, she was healthy and toned for a woman out of her twenties.
He saw nothing wrong with the age difference. He had dated older women in the past. He loved women and age was really not relevant until a woman passed a certain point. She was definitely not to that point, not yet. But this was Barbara, he reminded himself.
Damn, he thought again.
He was never one to hold his temper for long and was much calmer seeing the good outweighing the bad.
“So... I guess sleeping with me is out of the question because you find men repulsive and not because you think you will sully my reputation?” He smiled.
“Yeah, that’s it, choir boy. Your reputation is so in need of protection.” She rolled her eyes. Smiling, she took her toiletries out from her suitcase.
Why stay mad? After all, this was Mason. He could be charming when he chose to be. She witnessed it on more than one occasion through the years. He had just chosen to ignore rather than to use that charm on her, which had been fine with her. She did not want or need his attention. A man like Mason was trouble for any girl, but especially a woman like her. They came from very different places in life.
“I guess I should thank you for keeping me pure and unsullied. So what do you say, Barbara, to letting me buy you dinner? I’ll look for dessert elsewhere.” He laughed again catching her almost off guard.
“Oh, Mase.” She shook her head dramatically, teasing with him. “I hate to tell you, but you are so going to owe me more than dinner before this is over. Dessert elsewhere… I swear you are such a hound.” She shook her head and smiled.
“Not going to deny it.” He shrugged.
He liked the fact she was comfortable enou
gh to use his nickname. Only his family called him Mase, and she had never used it before. However, they had never been in each other's presence this long without backing the other into a sparring match. He wondered why it had taken him this long to get the chance to know her.
Okay, so this was going to work after all, she thought while taking in a calming breath. He would leave her alone. Not that she felt it would ever be an issue. She was not his type and grateful for it. However, it was good she now had a barrier and a buffer zone. At least with most men it would be a barrier. Mason was a wild card, so who really could say. In public they had no choice other then to have some display of affections, after all, they were on their honeymoon. In theory, this would keep it totally out of the private part of their mission. She disappeared into the bathroom to put away her toiletries.
Mason watched her go. Robert was a genius for pairing him with Barbara. This could work, he thought. Now, more than ever, he was going to have his cake and eat it, too. There could never be any jealousy of anything he did and he was sure she would not care as long as he was covert and discreet, not usually his forte, but he could punt in this instance. Maybe, he could find her a friend and he could get a little girl-on-girl action going before they needed to get down to serious business.
“Hey, Barbie Doll, how committed is this relationship you have with….“ He stopped short realizing he did not know who to ask about. “By the way what is her name, anyway?” He hollered loud enough for her to hear him in the bathroom over the running water.
“Lula and very committed. She has been with me for several years.” She called back, careful not to arouse suspicions.
“Ever think of straying,” he asked, tossing back the room darkening curtain over the sliding door to get a better look at the lovely ladies at the poolside bar. “Woo, nice,” he commented as a particularly hot morsel passed into his line of vision. Later, he thought, dropping the curtain back.
“Me or Lula?” she asked placing her toiletries in the shower stall and waiting on her bathwater to run. She was grinning in the bathroom mirror. He had walked right into this.