by Eve Langlais
Who now went by another name.
But something niggled at him. He remembered hearing something back in the day on one of the rare occasions that he’d come home on leave. Something important regarding Macey.
Since normal searches weren’t netting him anything, Ted dove past the regular internet most people knew, right into the dark web. The real internet.
He opened a new search window and typed in her name. For a price, he could access all kinds of databases, like that of his old high school. He found himself in those records, and other people whose names he remembered, but no Macey. Impossible. They’d graduated together.
More digging revealed that not only her school file was gone but also her birth records. Everything appeared to have vanished, except for one odd mention in a dark web forum devoted to archived newspapers. Buried inside a short paragraph of an ex-pat periodical circulated in Asia, a mention of the tragic demise of an American scientist in China.
Macey Munroe. Dead in a helicopter crash. Now, he remembered it. His mother had been quite excited, her whole church abuzz with the news. Could they have been wrong? Perhaps the clipping was about someone with the same name.
He swigged his beer and recalled how he’d almost not recognized her. Might not have clued in had she not used his name. She’d changed her hair. No longer strawberry blond, she’d gone brown and let it grow out from the shoulder-length she used to have. Then there was the mole on her jaw. A distinctive dark mark that he used to fantasize about kissing. It was now gone. As were the cute wire-rimmed glasses she used to wear. He also could have sworn that her nose and chin were different. A little more pointed.
But, people aged and changed their style. What he found a bit odder was that she’d changed her name. And lied about it. Portia wasn’t her middle name. Nor was there any record of a Macey Munroe getting married. Not in North America or anywhere he could search marriage registries online.
However, there were a few places he couldn’t get in to, countries with much more robust firewalls to penetrate. Hadn’t the article mentioned that the helicopter crash had happened in China?
Interesting how she had two little girls with Asian features.
There were only a few reasons why someone would want to disappear. All of them deadly. In her case, he’d wager a mother on the run from an abusive ex. She had the look. Surprised to see him, then wary, as if worried that he’d rat her out. Ted would never do that. He preferred to help women find their confidence after some asshole took it from them. Then, at one point, when the demons inside his head got too loud, he sometimes made sure those assholes were taught a lesson about beating on others.
Given the whole change in name, she might be in some kind of witness protection program. She was a scientist. She could very well be testifying against a pharmaceutical company. They had deep enough pockets to make life dangerous for those who thought to spill their secrets.
The many reasons she might want to be someone else had him drumming his fingers on the desk and hesitating. However, he wasn’t a man to leave a mystery alone. He was protected behind his layered firewalls. No one would know of his interest. He typed in Portia Stalone.
To his surprise, a litany of data surfaced. A full background, including schooling back to kindergarten, her driver’s license, social media. She had a full and well-documented history. Especially for someone who hadn’t been born with that name…
Odd.
And he knew just the type of people who would be interested in that kind of oddity.
Chapter Three
A tired Portia sucked back coffee as she read Mother’s overnight surveillance report. Turned out Ted resided where he worked. While they couldn’t be one hundred percent sure he hadn’t left, given a lack of cameras in the area, cellphone pings showed Ted not moving from his building. He didn’t call or text anyone, just hopped on the internet and watched Youtube fishing videos for a few hours.
Boring. Not the kind of thing she’d have expected, but then again, she didn’t really know him. The Ted she knew in high school was a jock. He lived and breathed football when he wasn’t making some girl swoon.
She had no idea what kind of grades he got. Was he smart? She’d certainly not heard of him needing a tutor.
Why did she even care? His intelligence had nothing to do with anything. The man appeared utterly dull.
Nothing to worry about.
Fifteen minutes of the treadmill while watching the morning news, followed by a shower, and a light breakfast meant she was out the door by eight-thirty. She dropped the girls off at school and then spent the time until she had to pick them up at her lab.
She’d figured out a way to atomize the truth serum. Now, for a delivery system that wouldn’t stand out or get picked up by security. Debating the merits of a lapel pin versus an umbrella handle, she quickly readied herself to leave when Mae texted. We’re done.
Her girls set their own school hours, sometimes choosing to remain until the early evening if working on something they found interesting.
Not today.
The moment she picked them up, they started talking about their upcoming lesson with Ted. So eager. And yet all Portia wanted to do was go home, slip into some comfortable clothes, and read in bed.
However, she wasn’t about to stifle their enthusiasm. The washed uniforms were in a gym bag in her trunk, alongside the satchel with their piano music books and their jazz shoes and outfits for the dance lessons she’d made them take. Her girls proved to be graceful on their feet. However, they got easily bored, claiming dance had no real practical usage. Would they think the same of martial arts?
Entering, her gaze moved right to Ted. He had a way of drawing the eye. A tall guy at over six feet, his hair had a bit of a shag to it that went well with the groomed beard he sported. The gi he wore, a two-piece outfit of loose pants and a wrap-around jacket, the fabric black unlike those of his students in white, showcased his muscular build.
It took Lin saying something she missed for Portia to realize that she stared while Ted stood behind the counter, talking to a parent. Kids warmed up on the mats, and she was glad to see she wasn’t the only adult in the beginner class. They were, however, the only ones not yet dressed. Her girls walked to the locker room to change, leaving her standing with her own outfit in hand.
The parent left, and Ted eyed her. “Didn’t have time to switch?”
“I came straight from work. I didn’t know the girls would want to attend so soon.”
“They’re curious. Quite common at that age.” He pointed to another door at the back. “You can use my office if you want to change. Although, I will warn, it’s more of a closet.” His lazy smile brought an answering one.
“Thanks.”
He wasn’t joking about the size of his office. He’d managed to jam a small table against one wall and had shelves bolted above it. Under the table, boxes labeled by year that she’d wager held paperwork. A thin metal stool acted as a seat. The feng shui was off the charts bad. She quickly changed so she could get out of the space.
She emerged to find everyone lined up, facing Ted. Her girls, more eager than expected, had spots in the front row. No, thanks. Portia slid to an empty place in the back.
Ted launched into a series of warm-up motions, easy enough to follow, as she pondered her mission. If she used a lapel pin, could she pack enough punch to project the truth mist at the intended target? An umbrella allowed more room to work with. However, what if it weren’t raining that day? It might never make it inside.
Ted slid from exercises meant to stretch into some basic movements that proved easy and familiar. She slipped into a relaxed routine—too relaxed. When from behind, a voice murmured, “Nice form,” she almost turned and decked Ted. Would have served him right for sneaking up on her. Instead, she froze mid-lunge.
“Thanks. I took a few classe.” Not entirely a lie. She just didn’t mention the years of hand to hand she’d taken after.
“Doesn’t l
ook like you’ve forgotten a thing.” He stepped past her, moving back to the front where he ran them through a few other drills before he clapped his hands. “Find a partner.”
The students paired off, her girls against each other, and others who obviously knew each other split into twos, leaving Portia alone. She could almost predict Ted’s crooked finger.
Ted gestured. “You can work with me.”
“It’s okay, I can watch.”
“Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.” He winked.
Wasn’t that just like a man to think her afraid? Old Macey might have been, but Macey died a long time ago. She might have bristled a little more than necessary as she moved to stand in front of him.
Ted turned serious as he explained, “We’ll go through the movements, slowly at first. Let you recognize the pattern and counter-strikes. You’ll see it much like dancing in the way the motions complement each other.”
“I don’t dance.”
His brows rose. “Is that why you said no to our date?”
He remembered asking? She dropped into a stance. Fists out. “I had a test to study for.”
“The dance was a Friday night.” He matched her position.
“I don’t like to do things last-minute.”
“Let me guess, you’re the type who has lists.”
“With sub-lists.” She blocked his slow punch.
“I’ll bet motherhood changed that.”
She snorted and threw a blow of her own, which he countered. “On the contrary, I’ve just become even more efficient.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Says a man who probably thrives on chaos.”
“Actually, I like my world kept tidy.” He grinned as he again threw a fist with exaggerated slowness.
She wanted to yawn. Her next blow snapped a little faster. He blocked it.
His sped up, too. “Your form really is most excellent.”
“You know me, always studying. I’m a bit of a perfectionist.” Try practicing almost every day for two years. Working the more scientific aspects of jobs didn’t mean she wasn’t trained to fight. But she couldn’t exactly admit that she was a trained assassin.
“How high did you go?” He referred to the belts they used to mark progress.
“All the way.”
“Then why sign up for a beginner class?”
She glanced at her twins practicing their moves, no longer bickering preteens but concentrating athletes.
“I thought it would bring us closer together.”
“They think you don’t know how to spar.”
She shrugged. “I’ve learned being a parent sometimes means the occasional white lie.”
“Ever take them back home?”
He referred to their hometown. The query seemed innocuous enough. “Nope. I couldn’t wait to leave, and it’s not as if I had anything to return to.” Her parents, like the rest of the world, thought she was dead. Given her mother was abusive, and her father just plain absent, it wasn’t much of a loss. Last she’d checked, they’d retired to Florida to be closer to her brother, whom they did like.
“How did you enjoy working in China?”
That was a little too knowledgeable.
How did Ted know? Lucky guess because of her girls? She faltered in her moves, and he managed to land a blow. His expression immediately turned contrite.
“Sorry about that.”
“My fault.” She smiled. “My turn to hit.” She threw them fast and hard, forcing him to move quickly to keep up.
The concentration required stopped the questions, but the fact that he’d even asked at all was a problem. If he’d heard of her going off to study in Asia, did that mean he’d also heard about her death? Mother had done her best to scrub the internet clean about it without it being too obvious to Ronin in case he watched.
What lie could she tell that Ted would believe? None, because she couldn’t take any chances, not with her daughters. She’d have to take care of Ted. Later tonight.
First, she had to take her girls home, and for once, they were chattering. “That reminded me of yoga but with hitting,” Mae remarked.
“It’s more like dancing,” was Lin’s argument.
They fell in step when they turned their attention on Portia as they got into the car.
“We saw you sparring with Ted.” The man insisted everyone use his first name, joking that he was too young to be anyone’s master.
“I needed a partner.”
“I think he likes you,” Lin declared.
Portia cleared her throat. “We’re old friends.”
“Was he your boyfriend?” Mae said with exaggeration on the boy part.
“No.” Portia hoped neither noticed the blush in her cheeks.
“How come you’ve never had a boyfriend?” Mae asked.
“Because no one asked me out?” Said more as a query than a statement.
“You’re pretty.”
“And smart.”
“Where is this coming from?” Her girls had never shown an interest in her lack of dating life before.
“Aren’t you lonely?” Lin asked.
“I have you to keep me happy.”
Mae frowned. “Are you still sad our father died?” The story she’d fed them when they’d become old enough to ask why they didn’t have a daddy.
“Yes. Very sad.” She lied because it was easier than admitting that she didn’t trust men. Couldn’t. Not with her past. Not with her present.
“I think you should date.” Lin just wouldn’t let it go.
“I’m busy.”
“Don’t you get tired of only working?”
Yes. The truth almost spilled from her lips. “I’m fine.”
They went silent for a moment, and she thought they’d finally lost interest until Lin declared, “You need a man.”
The car swerved. “I do not.”
“She’s right, Mother. What will you do when we leave for university? You’ll be alone.” Mae added her two cents.
“That’s a long time away.”
“Not really. Teacher says if we keep going at our current rate of education, we’ll graduate by the time we’re fourteen.”
Four years? But they were still just children. “Maybe I’ll follow you both to university. Get my masters in something.”
“Mother, really. We’ll have a hard enough time fitting in without you hovering,” Mae said with a disdainful toss of her head.
Lin kept on with the argument. “You need someone. The book I’m reading says humans need touch to thrive.”
“Guess you’ll have to give me more hugs,” Portia said, peeking at them in the backseat through her rearview mirror.
“Or you could get a boyfriend,” Mae bluntly stated.
“Or a girlfriend, if you prefer,” was Lin’s addition.
They were determined to drive her insane. “I’m flattered you’re both interested in my personal life. However, it is mine. Meaning the choice to date or not isn’t up to you. Where is this coming from?” she asked. “Why the sudden interest in my relationship status?”
It was Mae who had a reply. “A girl in our class, her mom got a new boyfriend, and they went on a cruise.”
“We can go on a cruise if you want. It doesn’t require me dating.”
“Don’t you want to date? Or is Mae right? Do you miss our father too much?” Lin narrowed in on the cause, just not the right reason.
“Your father was special,” Portia hedged. Ronin had ruined her for other men. Not only did she fear trusting, she was also afraid of letting her guard down and inviting trouble. But she couldn’t tell the girls she’d been lying about their father their entire lives. Even if it was for their own good. How could she explain that he was a dangerous man who would smother and hurt them with his version of love?
Luckily, they dropped the subject by the time they reached the house. Dinner was an Alfredo sauce over grilled vegetables with garlic bread. The girls
chose to watch a movie rather than do more elective homework. Although, their choice of movie—The Godfather—did disturb Portia, given their earlier discussion. Surely, they didn’t suspect about Ronin…
Portia waited until the girls were down for the night at nine o’clock and then waited another half hour before having Joanna arrive. She lived in an apartment over the garage. Close enough to help out, without them being too much in each other’s space.
“Off to work again?” Joanna chided.
“Actually, I’m going to meet a man.”
That widened Joanna’s eyes. “No way.”
“I am.” No need to mention this wasn’t a date.
“Who? Do I know him?”
“The new martial arts instructor.”
“The one teaching in that cruddy strip mall?” Joanna frowned. “Are you meeting him there?”
“Yes.”
Joanna pursed her lips. “That’s a rough place at night.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You’d better. You taking a gun?”
“You know I don’t like firearms.”
Joanna glared.
It would do no good to fight. Portia sighed and held out her hand. “Will you feel better if I borrow yours?”
“Yes.” Joanna handed over the small pistol she kept tucked in her ankle holster. Portia checked to make sure the safety was engaged before sliding it into the back of her pants. She tugged her sweater over it. The addition of a jacket made it impossible to spot.
“Happy now?”
“Not really. Couldn’t you meet him somewhere a little less sketchy?”
“I shouldn’t be too long,” was all she said, rather than curse. Why did people underestimate her?
Only once she’d gotten into her car did she call Ted. He picked up on the second ring. “Flamingo Martial Arts, Ted speaking, how can I help you?”