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Alina dropped the plastic bags onto the dining room table and turned to go into the kitchen. After leaving Frankie at the diner, she had gone shopping for a few supplies. On the way back, she had picked up a hoagie for lunch. Opening the fridge, she pulled out a bottle of water and glanced at her watch. It was a late lunch, but food was food, and she didn't know when she would get the chance to eat next. She had a busy night ahead of her.
She let the refrigerator door swing closed and carried the water to the bar. Setting it down, she went back to her bags and carried the one with her lunch to the bar. She slid onto a stool and pulled out the paper wrapped Italian hoagie. Hardly the most nutritious meal, but it had protein and carbs, both of which she needed.
Alina was just biting into the sandwich when her phone began to vibrate against her leg. Suppressing a sigh, she set down the hoagie and pulled it out of her pocket.
“Yes?”
She answered with her customary short greeting that guaranteed the caller would think twice about wasting her time.
“Hey stranger!” Angela's voice said cheerfully. “How goes it?”
“Hi.”
Alina put it on speaker and set the phone down, picking up her hoagie again.
“What are you doing? Are you busy?”
“I'm eating lunch.”
“This late? It's almost two!”
“I've been busy.”
“Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“Oh good! Steph and I are coming over. I haven't seen you in weeks.”
Alina frowned.
“It hasn't been weeks,” she muttered, glancing at the bags on the dining room table. “You were just staying here.”
“That was over a week ago, and I haven't talked to you since! Stephanie said Michael is there again,” Angela said airily.
Alina rolled her eyes. “Not anymore. He's in Brooklyn.”
“Oh, bummer. I thought we could all have dinner. What about Mr. Hunk O' Mysterious?”
“No.”
“Do you scare them all away on purpose?” Angela demanded.
“Angie...,” Alina began warningly, but her friend cut her off with a laugh.
“Don't get all pissy. I'm joking. We'll be there in about an hour. I'm on my way to pick Steph up now. She's still gimping it, so I said I'd drive.”
“Does Stephanie know she's coming here?” Alina asked after swallowing a mouthful of Italian meat and cheese.
“She will when I pick her up. We're supposed to go to dinner later, but I needed to get away from work early. I was going insane. Turns out so was she.” Angela let out a sudden curse, and Alina heard the horn blare through the phone. “Butt-wipe!” she yelled.
Alina chuckled despite herself.
“Sorry. Some dickhead just pulled right out in front of me on 73,” Angela said. “I'm going to ride his bumper all the way down the highway. I'll see you in a little bit.”
Alina pressed end on her phone and turned her full attention back to her lunch, shaking her head in reluctant amusement. The traffic in New Jersey was notoriously bad, and getting worse. The universal hand gesture had become standard operating practice for most drivers, and Angela was clearly no exception. It was all just part of the drive in Jersey.
The sliding door behind her clicked, and Viper had her Ruger out of her back holster in an instant. She spun on the bar stool, aiming at the door.
“Nice to see you too,” Hawk murmured, freezing in the doorway.
Alina exhaled and lowered the pistol.
“We need to figure out a warning approach for you,” she said, tucking the gun back into her holster. “What are you doing back already?”
“I finished sooner than I expected.” He dropped a black duffel bag onto the floor inside the door and walked toward her silently. “I didn't waste time getting back.”
“I see that.” Alina wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “Have you eaten?”
“On the plane.” Damon leaned down and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. “But I’ll take a bottle of water. I feel like I swallowed a desert.”
Alina watched as he went around the bar and towards the fridge. He was dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater, and his dark hair brushed the tops of his wide shoulders. He looked dangerous.
“Flying does that,” she said, dropping her gaze and trying to ignore the sudden increase in her pulse. “I drink Gatorade as soon as I land.”
Damon glanced over his shoulder and his blue eyes met hers.
“Does that help?” he asked, surprised.
She shrugged. “It does for me. Did you fly commercial?”
He nodded and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge.
“Yes.” He opened the bottle and drank half in one chug. “What did I miss?”
Alina raised an eyebrow.
“What makes you think you missed anything?”
Something close to a smile curved his lips for the first time since he walked in.
“You have a rental car outside, you just almost blew a hole through my chest with your .45, and you've got an Atomic Blonde kind of look going on with that hair. Doesn't take much imagination to realize something’s goings on.”
“Atomic Blonde?” she repeated with a grin. “I'll take that as a compliment.”
Damon walked over to the opposite side of the bar and leaned his elbows on it, coming down to eye-level with her.
“So? Spit it out.”
She sighed and wrapped up the remainder of her hoagie.
“The trip to Pittsburgh was a set-up.”
Damon's brows snapped together in a scowl. “How many?”
“Four. I got one of them to talk before I killed him.”
“And?”
“It's not good.” Alina got up and carried her half a hoagie to the fridge to put it away. “They've been tracking me. He said I was a priority one target, and more would come.”
Damon turned and leaned against the granite counter, crossing his arms over his chest, watching her.
“And have they?”
She nodded. “Yesterday. Four more.”
“You'd think they'd learn their lesson about sending four.”
A grin flashed across her face.
“It's certainly not working out so well for them,” she agreed, closing the fridge. “So far, they're sending isolated groups, but we both know that will change.”
Damon nodded grimly.
“That explains the hair. Now why the rental car?”
Alina's lips tightened.
“Both the Shelby and the Jeep had tracking devices on them,” she said flatly. “They’re compromised.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
“And just to complicate things, they were my own trackers.”
Alina walked out of the kitchen on that remark and Damon spun around to follow her.
“Run that by me again?”
Alina went over to the bags on the dining table and began emptying them.
“You heard me.”
“How the hell did someone get hold of your trackers?!”
“I gave them to her.” Alina paused in stacking boxes of ammunition on the table and pursed her lips. “That's the first and last time I loan out my gear.”
“Her?”
“Stephanie.”
Hawk stared at her, his face suddenly impassive.
“Tell me.”
Alina shrugged and moved onto another bag as she finished emptying the first.
“There's nothing to tell. I gave them to her during Asad's bomb threat so that she and Blake could keep track of Tito and one of the other drivers. She returned them by installing them on my vehicles.”
Hawk pulled out a dining chair and flipped it around with a flick of his strong wrist, straddling it and resting his arms across the back.
“She led the assassins right to you,” he stated. “I told you you couldn't trust anyone.”
Alina shot him a look. “Not helpful.”
“Why did she do it?”
“I have no idea.”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“You haven't confronted her?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
Damon studied her in silence for a long moment, his gaze hooded and his lips pressed together. It was clear that he didn't agree with her not addressing the issue, but he was wisely keeping silent.
“Anything else?” he asked finally.
She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“I don't think so.” She finished emptying the second bag and reached for the third. “How was your trip?”
“Successful,” he said shortly.
Alina glanced up at the tone in his voice.
“Are you alright?”
“Just tired.” He nodded to the growing collection of ammunition, fabric, heavy plastic sheeting and nylon wire on the table. “These aren't random supplies. What are you planning?”
Viper smiled coldly.
“A message.”
Alina looked up as Angela tapped on the sliding door before opening it. She closed the lid to her laptop and set it on the coffee table as Stephanie followed Angela into the house.
“Oh my God! I love your hair!” Angela shrieked. “When did you do that?!”
“Yesterday. I was ready for a change.”
“It's definitely a change!” Stephanie said with a grin. “It looks good on you!”
“I love it. It's very sexy government assassin!” Angela missed the startled look from Stephanie, her attention focused on Alina. “You look like someone from a movie.”
“So I've been told.”
“We come bearing gifts,” she announced cheerfully, holding up a white bakery bag. “Cream puffs from McMillans. Remember how you used to love them?”
Alina's eyes widened at the sight of the oddly familiar bag from her past.
“Wow, it's still there?” she exclaimed, standing.
“Are you kidding me? That place can never close. There would be a riot,” said Stephanie, hobbling over to the bar and dropping her purse on a bar stool. “They really need to open a second location.”
Alina went around the sofa and took the bag from Angela, carrying it into the kitchen. She opened it and glanced inside. While she didn't eat sweets much anymore, she had to admit that the pastries she had grown up eating looked delicious.
“So, what have you been up to the past week?” Angela set her purse on the bar and followed her into the kitchen. “I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever.”
“It hasn't been forever.” Alina set the bakery bag on the island and turned to get some plates out of the cabinet. “How's work?”
“Fine. I have a new contact at Trasker now, and she seems efficient. I think it will work out well.” She reached into the bag and pulled out one of the cream-filled donuts. “Steph, you want one?”
“Of course.”
Angela took a plate from Alina and put the donut on it, walking it over to Stephanie.
“It's pretty funny how everyone at work and in Florida is tip-toeing around the whole situation with Trent,” she continued, going back to the bag and pulling out another one. “It's like the elephant in the room; everyone knows it's there and they all want to know more about it, but everyone is afraid to bring it up.”
“Do you blame them?” asked Stephanie before biting into her cream puff.
“No, but I do think it's funny.” Angela plopped her donut on a plate and carried it over to sit next to Stephanie at the bar.
“How much do they know?” Alina asked, turning on her coffee machine and setting a mug under the spout.
“I don't know, really,” Angie admitted. “They know that Trent confessed to killing four women, and my boss knows that he broke into my house because I told him that much after it was all over. But beyond that, I don't know how much they've all figured out.”
“What they think they've figured out is probably much worse than the truth,” Stephanie said dryly, looking up. “Are you making coffee? Can I get some?”
Alina nodded and looked at Angela questioningly.
“Not for me, thanks,” she said. “I'll take some water though, since I know you don't keep soda in the house. Freak.”
Alina turned to get a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.
“Do you know what that stuff does to your body?” she asked over the top of the door as she pulled a bottle out. “You might as well chug anti-freeze.”
“Soda tastes better,” Angie retorted.
Alina shook her head and carried the water over to slide it across the bar to her friend.
“Don't bother,” Stephanie advised. “She's not giving up her high fructose corn syrup.”
“Why should I? The FDA says it's fine, so I'm not worrying about it.”
Alina rolled her eyes and turned back to the coffee machine.
“And you still believe everything you hear on the news, don't you?” she muttered.
“For the most part,” Angela said stubbornly. “Unlike you, Lina, I prefer to believe the best of the world around me.”
“Then you're doomed to be constantly disappointed,” said a deep voice from the hallway.
Stephanie and Angela both visibly jumped and swung around.
“Damon!” Stephanie exclaimed, a hand going to her chest as she began to laugh. “Holy crap, you scared me!”
He smiled easily as he walked toward the bar.
“Sorry. I've been told I need to come with an advanced warning tone.”
Alina glanced over her shoulder with a faint smile. His hair was still damp from his shower, and he had changed into clean jeans and a gray t-shirt. His blue eyes met hers across the kitchen, and she saw the laugh in them.
“You do,” Angela said earnestly. “You just made me jump out of my skin! Lina, I thought you said he wasn't here!”
“He wasn't at the time.” She pulled the mug out from under the coffee spout and carried it over to Stephanie. Then she glanced at Damon. “Coffee?”
“Absolutely.” He followed her across the kitchen, pausing next to the island to investigate the bakery bag. “What's this? This doesn't look Alina Approved,” he said, peering into the bag.
Stephanie grinned and Angela laughed.
“They used to be,” she said cheerfully. “They were her favorite growing up.”
Damon lifted his head and glanced at Alina, his eyes dancing.
“Really?” he drawled, reaching into the bag and pulling out a cream puff. “You don't say!”
He bit into it and Alina shook her head, turning back to the coffee maker.
“You don't need to sound so surprised,” she muttered under her breath.
“Oh my God, these are awesome,” he mumbled around a mouthful of cream and pastry. “Where do they come from?”
“A local bakery near where we all grew up,” Angela said, sipping her water. “How long are you staying?” she asked, sliding the question in airily.
Damon glanced at her and reached over to tear a paper towel off the roll near the sink.
“I'm not sure yet. It depends on a couple things.”
“As long as it doesn't depend on bodies piling up,” Stephanie muttered. “I've had my fill of corpses for the time being.”
Damon raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze catching Stephanie's grimace.
“Did I miss something?” he asked before shoving the rest of the cream puff into his mouth.
“Trent was killed the day before yesterday,” she told him.
Damon stilled and glanced at Alina.
“You did not tell me that,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “Anything else you've neglected to tell me?”
Alina stiffened at the steel edge in his tone and looked at him, her face impassive.
“I didn't think it was relevant,” she said shortly.
He looked at her incredulously.
“You didn't think it was relevant?!”
“What's happening right now?” Angela demanded from the bar. “Is this a fight? Are we here for your first fight? Should we leave?”
Her tone indicated that she was thrilled at the prospect of bearing witness to their first argument, and she leaned her elbows on the bar, settling in.
“Oh, for God's sake, Angie, shut up,” Stephanie muttered, getting up to hobble around the bar toward the fridge. “Don't mind me. I'm just getting milk,” she added to the couple near the coffee maker.
Damon winked at her.
“Knock yourself out. We're just having our first fight.”
Alina bit back a laugh and pulled the second mug from the coffee maker, handing it to him.
“I'm pretty sure I gave you a black eye during our first fight,” she said, a smile playing with her lips.
“I think you're right,” he agreed thoughtfully. “I never saw that right hook coming.”
“Who are you people?” Stephanie exclaimed as she turned away from the fridge with the milk.
“You gave him a black eye?!” Angela asked at the same time. “Seriously?”
“Don't get in the way of her right,” Damon told them. “It’ll do some serious damage.”
“Well, what did you do to piss her off?” Angie asked.
“Nothing at all.”
Alina shot him an exasperated look and turned to face her friends.
“It was in boot camp, and we were sparring,” she told them. “That's all.”
Stephanie nodded and poured milk into her coffee.
“That makes more sense.”
“So tell me about Trent,” Damon said after the coffee grinder stopped behind him. “What happened?”
“He was killed the day before yesterday,” said Stephanie, turning to carry the milk back to the fridge.
Damon set down his coffee and went over to take it from her, motioning her back to her seat.
“Sit down. I've got it.”
She smiled at him and hobbled back to her stool.
“We're still trying to figure out what happened. He was in an interrogation room. Someone went in, slit his throat, and left without being seen by any of the cameras or security.”
“No one saw anything?” he asked, his brows coming together in a frown. “Nothing at all?”
“Nope.” Stephanie sipped her coffee. “It's like a ghost did it.”
Damon glanced at Alina to find her face inscrutable.
“A ghost, huh?” He tore his eyes from hers and turned them on Stephanie. “Any signs of a struggle?”
“No.”
“So it was a ghost he knew,” Damon said. He closed the refrigerator door and looked at Alina again. “And you didn't think this was relevant?”
She shrugged and pulled her mug from the coffee machine, turning to move out of the kitchen.
“I didn't know you believed in ghosts,” she said over her shoulder.
He followed her, his face grim. “I don't.”
“Then I don't see the problem.”
Damon's lips thinned briefly as he considered the back of her head.
“And that is my problem.”