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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.
“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.”
“What about you? Has Mr. Hunk O’ Mysterious been around lately?” Angela asked airily.
Alina grinned. Angela was not subtle, nor did she believe for one moment that Angela didn’t know Damon had been here last week. She would have pried that information from Stephanie within minutes of landing back in Philadelphia.
“Yes.”
Angela waited expectantly, frowning when no more information was forthcoming.
“Well?” she prompted.
Alina met her look blandly.
“Well what?”
“How is he?” Angie asked impatiently.
Alina’s mood darkened with that question and her lips tightened.
“He’s fine,” she said shortly. “Before you ask, no, he’s not here, nor do I expect him.”
Angela studied her for a moment, then sighed.
“You scared him away, didn’t you?” she demanded. “I knew it. You just won’t let yourself have any fun! You need to loosen up and stop working so hard.”
Alina blinked and felt a headache start pricking behind one of her eyes.
“Ang–” she began, but Angela threw up a hand, stopping her.
“No, I don’t want to hear it. All you do is work. Hell, your ex-fiancé dropped dead last week and you went off on a business trip! Who does that?”
“It wasn’t exactly like I had a choice,” said Alina, amused. “And it wasn’t as soon as he...dropped dead, as you put it. For God’s sake, don’t say that in front of Stephanie. She’s likely to have a meltdown.”
“That might be a bit harsh,” Angela admitted ruefully. “Unexpectedly popped off?”
Alina burst out laughing.
“Oh Angie, don’t ever change,” she gasped.
Angela grinned.
“I don’t plan on it,” she said, then sobered. “How are you? Seriously? It had to be a shock.”
“Not really,” Alina said, feeling her mask slide into place. “It was a miracle he survived as long as he did.”
“Stephanie said the Firebird was totaled,” Angie said slowly. “Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“He restored it for you, you know,” she said unexpectedly.
Alina looked at her through hooded eyes.
“Yes, I know.”
“Don’t try to pretend that you don’t feel anything, Alina Maschik!” Angela exploded. “I know you do!”
Alina shrugged.
“I don’t know what I feel,” she said slowly. “I haven’t really had time to think about it.”
“You haven’t had time to think...” Angela’s voice trailed off as she stared at Alina in disbelief. “What’s it like on your planet? Is the air really thin? Maybe it’s deprived you of oxygen to your brain.”
Alina grinned.
“I don’t feel the way you think I should. So sue me.”
Angela huffed.
“Pretend all you want, but I know you better than you think,” she said, pointing a long finger at Alina. Then, in true Angela fashion, she abruptly changed the subject. “John’s parents are in from California. Do you have something appropriate to wear to the viewing and the funeral?”
Alina blinked and a deep sense of foreboding washed over her.
“What do you mean?” she asked, almost afraid for the answer.
“Well, Lina, you can’t show up in cargo pants and a tank top, which is all you seem to wear these days,” Angela told her patiently. “Especially with Joanne there. You don’t want her thinking her son dodged a bullet when your wedding fell through.”
“I really don’t care what Joanne thinks,” Alina muttered, “or anyone else. What does it matter what I wear?”
“I just told you! Everyone’s going to be looking at you. You’re the one that got away. You have to look the part.”
Alina stared at her old friend for a beat.
“What part?”
“The part of the grieving ex who is much better off now.”
Alina felt one of her eyes begin to twitch.
“Am I being punk’d right now?”
“I’m serious!” Angela exclaimed. She stood up. “Come on. Let me look through your closet. Or better yet, let’s just go shopping right now.”
“No!”
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” said Angela. Her lips settled into a bullish look Alina remembered well. It never ended well for any of them when Angela got that particular look on her face. “Come on. It’ll be fun. We’ll go shopping and go out to dinner. My treat on dinner.”
“I’m not going shopping.”
“Yes you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Damon watched the nurse leave the room and returned his gaze to the TV in the corner. He watched the news channel for a few minutes before pointing the remote at it in disgust and pressing the power button with more force than was strictly necessary. He tossed the remote onto the table at his side and scowled at the ceiling. If he had to spend one more day in bed, he was going to go out of his mind. This was worse than torture, and it had only been two days!
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Charlie had stopped by this morning unexpectedly. Hawk suspected the visit was more to see if he was still there rather than check on his progress. He didn’t stay long, but his visit succeeded in convincing Damon that he needed to get up and out as soon as possible. It wasn’t so much what Charlie had said, but more how he’d said it.
Damon sighed and reached for his phone. While he knew it was Viper who had collected his things in Singapore, it was Charlie who handed him the phone, watch and firearms this morning. Thank God for small mercies.
He swiped the screen and selected Viper’s number from the contacts. She picked up on the third ring.
“Yes?” she answered shortly, sounding irritated.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No. Why?”
“You sound like you want to snap someone’s neck.”
There was a slight pause on the line, then what sounded suspiciously like a grunt.
“The idea has crossed my mind repeatedly the past hour,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Damon replied. “If I have to watch one more minute of CNN, I think I’ll shoot myself again and do it right.”
“I’m sure you can get the TMZ channel,” Alina said, a tremor in her voice. “Or I hear the Kardashians are still on.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that. Where are you?”
“In Jersey.” Her voice was muffled, as if she was speaking through something, and Damon raised an eyebrow. “Where did you think I was?”
“Have you made any progress on the face behind our shooter?”
“I haven’t had chance. I’ve been working on some modifications for my side arms. I want to refresh my armory before I do anything.”
Her voice was clear again and Damon pursed his lips thoughtfully. What was she doing?
“That’s probably a good idea,” he said slowly. “Charlie was here this morning. He brought me my stuff. Thank you for grabbing everything.”
“Of course. The rest is with me. What did he have to say?”
“He’s making some progress, I think. He was unusually interested in what you’re doing right now. He said to impress on you the importance of staying out of sight.”
Alina was silent for a moment.
“Did he give any indication of what kind of progress he’s making?” she asked softly.
“Of course not. He did say one thing I didn’t like much. Harry doesn’t know what happened, and Charlie made it clear he isn’t going to tell him.”
The silence on the other end was longer this time.
“I don’t like that, either,” Alina said in a low voice. “So as far as Harry knows, we could be anywhere.”
“Exactly.”
Damon stopped as he heard something strange in the background, then a voice.
“Lina, I found another one. I’m tossing it over. And if you like the gray one, I found a fabulous pair of red heels that will look killer with it!”
Damon’s eyebrows soared into his forehead.
“Viper?” he said softly. “Are you...shopping?”
“No!” she snapped.
“Oh, and try this on! It wouldn’t work for the funeral, but I think it’s sexy as hell and would look amaze-balls on you.”
“Really?” he drawled. “Because it sounds like someone’s passing you clothes to try on. Is that Angela?”
There was a faint sigh.
“Yes.”
Damon couldn’t stop a grin from stretching across his face.
“Funeral shopping?” he asked, only the mildest tremor in his voice showing his enjoyment. “I thought you were modifying your .45?”
“I was, then Angie happened.”
Damon burst out laughing, wincing as pain ripped through him but unable to stop.
“Oh, I wish I could see this,” he chortled. “Is she trying to dress you like a tragic widow?”
“More like a Desperate Housewife,” Alina muttered. “I don’t know how this even happened.”
“I want pictures,” Damon told her. “If you go to John’s funeral looking like a cougar, I want it documented for future generations.”
“Keep it up and I’ll put another hole in your side,” she hissed.
Damon guffawed again.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he relented, still grinning. Then the grin faded. “Viper, be careful. Something has Charlie worried. Watch your back. That amaze-balls outfit won’t look so sexy with a bullet hole in it.”