by CW Browning
“You’ll manage. I’m trusting you,” Damon said seriously. “Don’t let me down.”
Michael frowned at the warning.
“Just get yourself better and come join the party as soon as you can,” he retorted.
Stephanie watched as Buddy bounded after the Frisbee, his ears flat against his head and his lips flapping in the wind. She laughed, shaking her head. The pit bull was having the time of his life. From the time he arrived late last night with Blake, he’d been nothing but curious, friendly and playful. Really, he was a very good dog. He’d come into the apartment readily, and after spending an hour investigating and assuring himself it was safe and secure, he’d taken up residence in her living room as if he’d been there his whole life. This morning when Blake said he was going to take him for a run, Stephanie suggested the dog park. Now Buddy was running off all his energy, and she was being distracted from the heart-breaking task of planning John’s funeral.
She watched as Buddy picked up the stick and ran it back to Blake, his hind-quarters shaking back and forth in his excitement. She grinned again.
And people thought pit bulls were dangerous.
“Where’s the funeral home?” Blake asked, taking the thick stick from Buddy’s mouth and throwing it again. The stick spun through the air, going even farther than before, and Buddy barked and tore after it. “Is it far?”
“About fifteen minutes,” she answered. “I’m lucky they were able to work with me so quickly. Larry, our ME, gave me their name. They have a good reputation.”
Blake glanced down at her.
“When did they get the body?”
“Larry said they picked it up an hour ago,” Stephanie said. “Joanne is insisting on an open casket.”
“Joanne?”
“John’s mother.”
Buddy was heading back towards them again, stick in mouth.
“So when’s all this going down?” Blake asked. “I heard you say something on the phone about Monday.”
“The viewing might be Monday night. I’m waiting to hear back from the church, but we’re hoping to have the funeral Tuesday,” said Stephanie. Buddy skidded to a stop in front of Blake and dropped the stick before plopping down. He sat there panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth while he gazed up at his master adoringly. “It’s been long enough. John needs to be put to rest.”
“Will he be buried here?” Blake bent down and clipped Buddy’s leash back onto his collar. “Come on, boy. That’s enough running for one day.”
“Yes.” Stephanie turned to walk with Blake as he headed back toward the entrance to the park. “John didn’t specify whether or not he wanted to be cremated in his will, but when I mentioned the option to Joanne, I thought she would have a heart attack. She’s determined to have a viewing and full burial. They’re paying for it and I don’t think John would have cared either way, so here we are.”
“If this is what his parent’s want, why aren’t they arranging it?” Blake asked after a moment.
Stephanie shrugged and her lips curved in a wry smile.
“They think it’s more appropriate I do it,” she replied. “Joanne’s working with the funeral director on the flowers, but she said I was closer to him than they were lately, so I’d be better to plan everything else.”
Blake looked at her sympathetically.
“I’m sorry, Steph,” he murmured, reaching out and taking her hand with his free one. “This has to suck for you. What can I do to help?”
Buddy tried to take off after a rabbit he had spied in the distance and Blake tightened his hold on the leash, yanking him back. Buddy yelped, then fell back into step with them, watching his prey disappear into the woods at the edge of the dog park.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” she sighed. “There’s so much, and I don’t know where to start. Until I hear back from the priest, I can’t really do anything. If we can have the funeral Tuesday, the funeral director already said they could have John ready for a viewing Monday night.” Her voice shook and Blake tightened his fingers on hers briefly. “They’ll take care of refreshments, so I don’t have to worry about that, but the funeral will be an ordeal. The entire Philly office will be there, and Rob said the offices in New York, Baltimore and Boston have said they’re sending representatives in. John worked with all of them at various times.”
“That’s normal for an agent’s funeral,” Blake said. “They’re not small affairs.”
“No, but they’ll all have to be fed,” Stephanie said. “Where am I going to find a place to host upwards of 200 people with less than forty-eight hours’ notice?”
“Calm down. Not all of them will stay to eat,” he assured her with a laugh. “Most of them will go to the church, pay their respects and leave.”
Stephanie snorted.
“You don’t know Jersey,” she retorted. “Funerals are an event around here, almost as popular as the viewings.”
Blake stared at her.
“Eh?”
She nodded glumly.
“You’ll see. The viewing will be jam packed, and most of them will go to the church the next day. Trust me. Then they’ll want to know where the luncheon is.”
Blake opened the gate and the three of them went into the graveled parking lot.
“So make it invitation only,” he said. “Seriously, Steph, you don’t have to feed everyone. Make the luncheon family and close friends only. That’s perfectly reasonable.”
Stephanie stopped and watched as Blake unlocked his Challenger and opened the door so Buddy could jump into the backseat.
“You don’t think that’s...I don’t know...kind of rude?”
He looked at her in exasperation.
“No, I don’t,” he assured her. “It’s normal. Do you know how many funerals I’ve had to go to? Trust me.”
Stephanie nodded and felt a little of the weight ease off her shoulders.
“Well, that will help a lot,” she admitted, getting into the passenger seat. “If I do that, I’m only booking for about twenty, maybe twenty-five.”
“See?” Blake smiled down at her. “That’s much more manageable.”
He closed the door and Stephanie watched him walk around the front of the car to the driver side. Not for the first time today, she was grateful Blake came up to stay again. His common sense was something she obviously needed right now.
A cold, wet nose touched her neck and she started, laughing as Buddy plunked his chin on her shoulder.
“Do you mind?” she demanded, shrugging him off. “You’re all slobbery.”
Blake slid behind the wheel and grinned as Buddy tried, unsuccessfully, to lick Stephanie’s cheek.
“Sit down, Buddy,” he commanded.
Buddy looked at him, then reluctantly dropped his haunches down on the backseat. Blake murmured “Good boy,” and the engine roared to life.
“Don’t worry, Steph,” he said, glancing at her. “We’ll get it all figured out. Didn’t you say your friend Angela offered to help? Give her a call. Maybe she knows of some restaurants you can try.”
“She’s getting her tire fixed, but you’re right. She’ll help.” Stephanie pulled out her cell phone and hit speed dial. “Maybe she can come over when she’s finished and we can hammer out some details. Hopefully, I’ll hear back from Father Angelo soon and we’ll have a better idea of time frame.”
“What about the friendly, neighborhood assassin?” Blake asked, backing out of his spot and turning toward the entrance. “Can she lend a hand?”
Stephanie glanced him.
“I don’t even know if she’s back in town yet,” she muttered, holding her phone to her ear.
“You still haven’t heard from her?”
“I talked to her briefly yesterday morning. She said she would be home soon.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep.” Stephanie shrugged. “She didn’t even ask about the funeral. Although, in her defense, I didn’t give her much chance,” she added thoughtful
ly. “I was too busy complaining that she just disappeared on us.”
Blake glanced at her with a grin.
“I’m sure she loved that.”
Stephanie disconnected as Angela’s voicemail picked up.
“She wasn’t very amused, no,” she agreed. “Angie’s not picking up. I’ll try her again in a little bit. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” Blake said, looking at the clock. “What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t care, I just need fuel,” she replied, leaning her head back against the headrest. “I feel like I’m running on empty.”
“Alright. Let’s get Buddy back to the apartment and go get you fed. Maybe by then you’ll hear back from someone and we can start tackling arrangements.”
Stephanie looked at him and smiled. He caught the smile and raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, flushing slightly. “Just...thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here, and trying to help. I appreciate it.”
Blake nodded.
“I told you I’m here for you,” he said. “I meant it. Besides, you took me and Buddy in. It’s the least I can do.”
“That’s no problem,” Stephanie assured him. “In fact, I’m actually enjoying having the dog around.”
“But not me?” Blake laughed. “Gee thanks.”
Stephanie grinned and looked out the window.
“Both of you,” she qualified. “Although, when you meet Angie, you might re-think everything.”
Blake looked at her, then turned his attention back to the road.
“I doubt that,” he murmured.
Chapter Eleven
A man watched through binoculars as the couple walked out of the dog park and toward the black Challenger. A large dog walked beside them and he watched as the man opened the passenger door. Pressing a button on the side of the binoculars, he snapped multiple pictures of both the man’s and the woman’s faces. The dog jumped into the car and then the woman got into the front seat. He lowered the binoculars thoughtfully.
Special Agent Stephanie Walker didn’t look like much of a threat, but the man with her had the familiar bearing of ex-military, and then there was the little matter of the dog. The dog complicated things. It didn’t matter how silent you were, dogs always smelled you coming. He wouldn’t be able to get close to John Smithe’s partner until the dog was out of the way. He frowned. That was if it even became necessary. With any luck, it would not.
When he landed in Philadelphia yesterday, he wasted no time. He was already over a week behind Viper. The man tightened his lips grimly. While he was playing catch-up, she had managed not only to evade Wesley in Singapore, but to blow his brains out as well. She was good. He admitted that freely, and it only strengthened his resolve to find her, and terminate her as quickly as possible.
Do unto others before they do unto you, he thought, his lips twisting wryly in amusement. He couldn’t remember what movie that was from, but it was appropriate.
The black Challenger pulled out of the small parking lot and roared off down the road. The man stood up and turned to walk through the sparsely wooded area to his rental sedan. If he wanted to know how Viper knew John Smithe, he had to start with Agent Walker. With just a bit of luck, she would lead him to his target. If not, he’d try her boss. Someone had to connect the dots.
Not for the first time, the man wished he knew the name of the person who had hired him to eliminate John Smithe. He would never have taken the job if he’d known it was going to bring him into direct conflict with Viper. He frowned again. If he knew who hired him, it would be a simple matter to backtrack to the assassin. It would also be a simple matter to find out what was so important that an FBI agent in New Jersey warranted an assassination in the first place.
The man stepped out of the trees and unlocked the silver sedan, sliding behind the wheel. He supposed it didn’t matter now. It was too late to go back and correct the past. All he could do was try to minimize the damage.
And Agent Walker was in a perfect position to help him.
Alina ejected the magazine from her .45 and inserted a new one, never taking her eyes from the target positioned seventy-five feet away. She raised her arms and unloaded the new magazine, watching as the grouping from this round of shots went through the center of the established grouping on the target. A minute later she ejected the spent cartridge and lowered her arms. The modifications were perfect. Now to test the range. She turned and walked a few feet to her left, turning to face the target setup thirty yards away.
When she got back in the wee hours of the morning, Alina had been restless and unable to sleep. Dawn found her working on modifying her primary weapon, the Ruger SR45 that accompanied her everywhere. Raven, her black hawk, had watched from the roof of the stand-alone garage as she set up four targets in the back yard before finally going to sleep for a few hours. When she awoke in the early afternoon, Viper was still restless, but at least now she’d gotten some sleep. That counted for much more than it seemed, as she well knew.
Sliding a full magazine into place, she raised her arms and took aim. Her lips tightened imperceptibly. She didn’t have much time. The incident in Singapore had made that abundantly clear. The leak in Washington was getting bolder. She was going to have to move soon, and quickly. Whether Charlie was ready or not, they were almost out of time.
Viper relaxed her shoulders and fired a few rounds, then studied the target in the distance. She adjusted her aim a bit and emptied the rest of the magazine. Lowering her arm, she ejected the spent cartridge, studying the grouping on the paper in the distance.
She was just turning to move over to the last target, placed forty yards away, when her phone vibrated against her thigh. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled it out with a frown, glancing at the screen. Her security perimeter had been tripped at the road.
Alina swiped the screen and touched the blinking quadrant on the phone. The frown turned to a scowl at the sight of the silver BMW turning into the dirt driveway from the road. Alina cursed softly and glanced at the targets, visible in the trees. There was nothing she could do about them in the short amount of time before Angela made it through the woods to the house. She’d just have to hope her friend wouldn’t notice them. Alina slid a fresh cartridge into the pistol and flipped on the safety before tucking it into her holster at her back. Bending down, she began to gather up the empty magazines littering the lawn. The long-range test would have to wait.
A few minutes later, Angela pulled around the side of the house, tires crunching on gravel. Alina watched from the deck as she pulled to a stop next to her black Jeep.
“You’re here!” Angela called as she got out of the car. She slammed the door shut and started across the lawn toward the deck. “I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you or not, but figured I’d try.”
Alina waited while she made her way across the grass toward the deck. Angela was dressed in jeans and a sweater with designer boots on her feet. A large expensive bag was thrown over her shoulder and Alina shook her head. As always, her old friend looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of Vogue.
“What are you doing? Were you on your way out?” Angela asked, reaching the deck.
“No, I saw you on the security camera,” said Alina smoothly. “You got your tire fixed, I see.”
“Yes, I just came from the shop. They had to replace the whole tire. You’re never going to believe this. It was slashed!”
Alina’s eyebrow rose sharply into her forehead.
“What?”
Angela nodded and dropped into one of the Adirondack chairs on the deck.
“Yep. When they got it off, there was a gash and the guy said it wasn’t from wear. He thinks some kids did it overnight.”
Alina looked at her for a moment, leaned against the railing and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Is that a possibility?” she asked.
Angela shrugged.<
br />
“I suppose so. I usually park in the road outside my house. I’ve never had any problems before though, and as far as I know, neither have my neighbors.” She looked up at Alina. “Stephanie called me in the car. Have you talked to her yet?”
“No.”
“She heard back from Father Angelo at St. Pete’s in Merchantville. The funeral is at eleven-thirty on Tuesday. Viewing is Monday night at the funeral home.”
Alina nodded.
“Father Angelo, huh? I can’t believe he’s still there.”
Angela raised an eyebrow.
“Do you know him?”
Alina smiled faintly. Yes, she knew Father Angelo. Eleven years ago when she ran away to join the Navy, Father Angelo was the one who encouraged her. That was a lifetime ago, when she still went to mass occasionally, and Father Angelo was more of an advisor than a priest to her.
“I used to,” she murmured. “He was there when I left for boot camp.”
Angela studied her for a moment. Alina got the impression she was searching for some kind of emotion on her face, emotion that Viper was very careful to keep hidden.
“Well, he’s doing the funeral. Stephanie expects a crowd and at least we know St. Pete’s can accommodate everyone. We’re still trying to find somewhere for the luncheon afterwards. I gave Steph some restaurant names in Cherry Hill and she’s going through them. Blake showed up. He’s helping her.”
“Yes, you told me he was coming,” said Alina.
“He’s staying with her!” Angela said, wiggling her eyebrows. “What do you think about that?”
“What am I supposed to think about it?” Alina moved over to the other chair and sank down, resigned. “Why shouldn’t he?”
“Have you met him?” Angela demanded, turning to face her. “Is he single? Is he good-looking?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never met him.” Officially, she added silently.
“Ugh!” Angela rolled her eyes. “What good are you?”
“Sorry,” said Alina, surprised into a chuckle. “I’ve been a little too busy lately to worry about Stephanie's love life, or lack thereof.”