Alex drove home with the music loud and the windows down. Her thoughts of the best route to the dojo from her two-story house disappeared at the sight of a familiar black jeep sitting in the driveway. To a military brat any place with a roof, four walls, and a door was home. But truly, this place, more than any other house she’d lived in, felt like home to Alex. She pulled up to the curb and got out of the car.
“I really don’t have time for this,” she muttered as she slammed the car door. Alex ran up the stairs and turned the knob, knowing that it would be unlocked. She shook her head.
“Didn’t I tell you to get a new lock?” came a slightly accented voice from the far right.
Alex dropped her bag and turned to stare at the intruder. “Did you scare Karen when you picked the lock?”
“No one was home,” he explained. “Your roommate left a note. She’ll be spending the night at her aunt’s house.”
Alex glared at the man, but he seemed unaffected. She sighed and dropped onto the couch, looking at him. Rafé’s salt and pepper hair, cut short on the side and long in the back, accentuated his sculpted cheekbones. His lean, muscled frame and dark Latin looks had been an ongoing joke between him and her father. Alex bent to stroke her pet cat, Shadow, as he rubbed against her leg.
“So what brings you here, Rafé?”
“Just wanted to bring you a birthday gift.”
Alex frowned. “My birthday isn’t until next month.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be back in the States and I want you to have it before I leave.”
The moment Rafé mentioned the word gift, she looked at him closely. Normal people received money, clothes, jewelry, or gift certificates. She was the only person she knew who received custom made knives and military history books as presents.
Alex cautiously reached out to open the box Rafé had put beside her. She drew in a quiet breath and whistled when she saw the gun nestled within the soft silk cloth.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why the gun and why now?”
He answered her with a nonchalant shrug.
“Why the semi-automatic?” she persisted. “This is San Francisco, not Bogotá.”
Rafé’s usually cold flat eyes always thawed when she looked into them. She supposed it was the memories of her father that accounted for his affection.
“Niña,” he sighed. “Your father saved my life more than once. With his dying breath, he placed you into my keeping. I promised to take care of you. I have to go on a mission and I won’t be here to watch over you. So, I want you to have all the things necessary to protect yourself when the time comes.”
Alex picked up the gun and tested its weight in the palm of her hand. Her father’s disapproval of her joining the Special Forces had been a cause of disagreement between them, but the military had taught her well. Her grip was strong and arm steady. All of the lies and falsified documents that had preceded her return to civilian life could never erase her Special Forces training. She had given five years of her life and half of her soul to the military.
There had been nights that she had spent with her fingers curled around the barrel of a 9mm Beretta as she slept in a vest carrying 15-round magazines. When operations went sour, it was just DELTA force and the enemy in the high intensity shootouts. She frowned, remembering the numerous times that they had made it out of impossible situations only because the enemy had run out of bullets.
She looked down at the gun. The semi-automatic pistol was a dull black with a hard rubber grip and a small left side safety. Alex ran her fingertips over the etched letters: Ruger.
“You’ve gone on extended covert missions before. What’s so different this time?”
He ignored her question. “I’ve informed Tobias of my absence. He’s going to check up on you from time to time.”
Alex waved her hand dismissively. “You and I both know that I don’t need you or any other member of the team. Ex-team,” she corrected herself, “to tuck me in at night. So what aren’t you telling me?” The temptation to slip back into the shadows of the military was always there. Although she loved her life as a teacher, Alex still missed the camaraderie of the military.
“Niña, you are my gurraro pequeno, little warrior. I just want to make sure that you stay safe.”
Rafé was as efficient a killing machine as they come. Military trained in undercover operations, search and rescue and reconnaissance, he was one of the best. Though he was analytical, he couldn’t overcome his paternalistic nature. He would trust her to keep him alive in a fight, depend on her to back him up in a mission, but he would worry and that was what lay behind the gift.
“Okay…okay. I give up.” She threw her hands up and laughed. “I’m going to make coffee.”
Alex took the coffee beans out of the freezer and placed a quarter cup into the grinder. As the sound of the machine filled the kitchen, the scent of coffee beans spread. She placed the ground coffee into the machine and hit the button to start the brewing cycle. After pulling down two mugs from the cabinet, she took milk out of the refrigerator and waited for the machine to finish brewing.
“So what hell hole are you being sent to this time? Or are you getting a cushy undercover job?” She leaned against the countertop and watched the man take a seat at the table.
Rafé shook his head. “Don’t know. They will tell me nothing until I arrive for the briefing.”
“Not to mention the fact that even if you knew, you couldn’t tell me,” she commented offhandedly after pouring two cups of coffee.
“You know the rules.” Rafé took the cup of black coffee from her hand.
Alex smiled. “So, when do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning,” he answered after drinking some of the dark brew.
Her adopted uncle fixed a searching stare on her. “I need to have a clear head for this mission. Promise me that if you have any troubles you’ll contact Tobias.”
Alex took a sip of her coffee and then placed the cup on the countertop. She hated lying but she knew Tobias well enough not to want him keeping a close eye on her. She had met him a couple of times when Rafé had asked her to help out with a limited intelligence gathering mission south of the border.
Tobias was a highly skilled assassin. He was the one the military sent for when mistakes were made and someone needed to permanently disappear. When Tobias’s sister was beaten and robbed, the family called Tobias. Her attackers never made it to trial.
Mentally crossing her fingers, Alex met his intense stare and lied, “I promise.”
His eyes, usually expressive, held a pensive look. “Are you happy?”
Alex blinked twice. “Happy? I don’t know. I’m content.”
“No regrets about leaving the team?”
“None,” she confidently replied. It had taken months for her to adjust to civilian life. But now that she had a job she loved, friends, and karate to keep her busy, she had lost her longing for the dangerous and unpredictable life of a DELTA operative. “I’m grateful that I had the chance to spend time with my father.”
“What about the young man?”
“Brian?” She played along with Rafé’s seemingly innocent question. She’d bet every penny in her account that he not only knew Brian’s name but also his entire life history and credit rating.
“Has he proposed yet?”
“What makes you think our relationship is that serious?”
“Unless the Tiffany solitaire engagement ring purchased last month was for another woman, he proposed to you.”
“I told him no.”
“Because of your past?”
She shook her head as Rafé came to stand beside her. “I don’t love him in the way a husband and wife should love one another. Now, are you satisfied or is there something else you’d like to know?”
He raised a bushy eyebrow and a slight smile curved his lips upward. “That will be all for now.” He placed his empty cup in the sink. “I need to pack. You will install a new lock on both doors?”
“Yes, sir,” Alex nodded. “First thing in the morning.” He was halfway to the front door before she could catch him. “Rafé?”
“Yes, niña?” He stopped on the first step but didn’t turn.
“Take care.”
“I will.” And she had but to blink before he disappeared.
Shaking her head, Alex locked the door before heading upstairs. She opened the closet door and pulled out a small stepladder. Pushing aside empty shoe boxes, she slid back the false panel. Taking her time, she wrapped the gun in the blue material and placed it alongside her other collection of weapons, souvenirs from her time in the military.
The little alcove held a mini arsenal: mace, stun gun, knives, and various other implements of violence she had collected from her time in the military and from her former DELTA teammates. Sliding the panel back into place, she returned the shoe boxes to their original positions. Sparing a quick glance at the watch on her wrist, she hurried into the bedroom, picked up her duffle bag, and departed for the karate studio.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Alex parked her car next to a dark-colored station wagon and turned off the engine. She leaned back, rested her head against the headrest, and drew in a deep breath. Just as she closed her eyes, she heard the door of the dojo open and the excited voices of children. She opened her eyes and watched as little children in karate uniforms rushed towards the parked cars and waiting parents, then got out and went inside.
The dojo was an open space with windows facing west. Alex sighed as the room’s peaceful ambiance washed over her. She waited for a minute in the silence before shouting the customary Japanese greeting, which announced her presence. This place was all she’d had to keep the darkness away after her father’s death.
“Tadaima.”
Alex had begun to slip off her shoes when she heard Sensei’s response. “Okinasai.”
She was halfway across the room before she saw Taga Sensei. He was a master of the art of stealth. Taller than the average Japanese male, her teacher was five eleven, thin, and muscled. Seemingly ageless, he had the agility and strength of a twenty year old yet the knowledge and patience to teach karate to both adults and children.
She turned and walked into the dressing room. Stripping off her slacks and blouse, she took her time putting on her karate uniform. Alex looked into the mirror while pulling her hair back into a ponytail and stopped.
She stared at the darkness of her skin next to the whiteness of the karate uniform. How her African-American features appeared displaced by the Asian costume. But it was her large crescent-shaped eyes that stopped her cold. Alex recognized the expression in them as like Chou’s: solemn and sad. A memory flashed through her mind: “Daddy, why did Momma have to leave?” She had drawn her legs up to her chest as she eyed her father in his white naval uniform.
“The angels need her, sweetheart,” he’d replied straightening his perfectly starched collar.
She remembered seeing her own sad face in the mirror. “I need her too.”
Shaking her head to clear away the images, she re-checked her belt, and then entered the training room.
“We will use the swords today, Alex-chan,” Taga announced.
Without looking towards her teacher, she donned the protective clothing required for kendo. When she finished putting on the body gear, she turned to take the face mask from Sensei’s mitten covered hand. Metal bars protected her face, and the woven silk bottom portion of the headdress comfortably covered her shoulders.
After securing her helmet, Alex reached into the rear of the cabinet and brought out two shinai. She held tight to one of the bamboo and leather swords and gave the other to Taga Sensei. Holding the sword, Alex performed a standing bow.
“Onegai shimasu,” she said softly, asking the teacher to grant her the favor of a lesson.
“Hajime.”
Sensei’s loud shout was her only warning. Like lightning, Sensei hit out with his wooden sword, putting her instantly on the defensive. Her arms felt the burn of blocking his hits. Alex inched backward, giving ground in order to regroup. But just as quickly as she moved back, Sensei moved forward.
In hand-to-hand combat, she was one of the best, but the sword was heavy and unnatural in her hands. Taga Sensei was the master of this art and he wasn’t shy about letting her know it. She gazed into his coolly confident dark eyes and memories of being taunted by little Japanese boys as she tripped trying to mimic their fluid kicks rose up in the back of her mind and anger quickly followed.
Yet keeping her cool saved the match as Alex forced her opponent to move closer and to use more energy as she conserved hers. It was impossible to get through his blocks, but she intended to hold her own long enough to force a stalemate. Just when her arms could take no more abuse, Sensei pulled back and lowered his stick. Alex waited with sword up, trying to catch her breath before the second round.
One of the first lessons she’d learned was to never drop her guard. Breathing heavily, she lowered her sword as Sensei reached up with his left hand to remove his mask. She did the same and together they bowed to one another, signaling an end to the fight. Alex felt the sweat-dampened wood slip through her numb fingers and began to laugh.
“So this was triumph?” she croaked under her breath. Never again. Every muscle in her body was on fire. She glanced at Sensei as he reached to collect her stick and mask. After picking them up, he just strutted over to the equipment wall, set them down, and then entered the dojo’s small kitchen. Alex bent slowly, afraid that any movement whatsoever would make the pain worse.
“Tea, Alex-chan?”
She heard his mocking tone from the kitchen. She took a deep breath and stood up straight. Only Sensei could casually ask if she wanted tea after administering such a hard beating.
Alex shook her head in wonderment. No wonder the samurai died out, she thought. All those poor students probably rebelled.