Fighting for Keeps Read online

  “What?” She slammed the hood, nearly catching part of his rear end in the process. Would have served him right, too. He knew she was perfectly happy playing Q to everyone else’s Bond. Until this moment she’d thought he was equally satisfied with the arrangement. Obviously not.

  Marron eyeballed the convertible and then shifted his gaze to her. “I’m going to pretend that wasn’t intentional.”

  “How about you pretend it was and put me on disciplinary leave until this new recruit thing gets worked out? That sounds like a much better plan.” She grabbed a rag from the rolling tool bench and started wiping grease and grime from her fingers.

  The growl that came from deep in Marron’s chest would have made her nervous, but he’d already threatened her with about the worst punishment possible. A little noise wasn’t very scary after that. “I gave you a year, Jodi. And, yes, you do incredible work keeping this place running, but you’re too good a field agent to be relegated to gadget girl.”

  There was something he wasn’t saying. “I haven’t been relegated. I chose this position because it’s the best fit for my talents. I know it; you know it.” Marron busied himself examining a piece of lint on his jacket. “What’s the deal?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I already said it, you’re too good to be stuck here.” Giving a pained sigh, he pulled a pill bottle from his jacket pocket, shook two out, and took them dry. It gave him a long minute before he continued talking. Jodi would have asked about the meds, but quite frankly, she wasn’t going to let him deflect her question that easily. Finally, he said, “There’s been trouble; someone got into our system. No one exists alone here anymore. Like it or not, you’re getting a new partner. It’s not a request. My office, thirteen hundred. I’ll brief you and Greta together.”

  The computers—someone had broken in. No wonder Marron was spooked. Who knew what kind of information the hacker had? Shit. The danger was real, which meant there was nothing she could say, no argument she could make, that would change his mind. And she would have been the worst kind of idiot to try.

  As if he’d figured out that he’d cowed her, Marron walked off. He did it nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just torn her world apart. Like it was just another day at TRAIT.

  It wasn’t. Not for her. And he’d been wrong; it hadn’t been a year.

  Thirteen months, one week, and two days. Before then, she’d had a partner. Older, cocky, misogynist…

  Lot of good that had done him.

  Thirteen months plus, and she still couldn’t help but wonder if she could have done something different, something more. In her heart, she knew it wouldn’t have changed a darn thing, but it didn’t matter. It still haunted her every stinking day.

  They’d been on a mission. It was supposed to be simple surveillance. Once they had intel, then they were supposed to call the team in. They’d watched the building. Jodi had it wired for sound and movement. But where Nolan insisted there were only two people inside, Jodi’s computer showed more—a lot more.

  After confirming their target had gone inside, Jodi had made the call to the office. Backup was on the way. Backup Nolan insisted they didn’t need. They’d argued, and she’d tried to explain the data that clearly showed movement of more than a few people inside. He’d responded by pointing out they’d only heard a couple voices and seen two men enter.

  Three guys inside at most, he’d insisted.

  When she’d tried to reason with him again, he’d told her to wait in the car if she was too much of a coward to do her job. At first she’d listened and stayed put. But after a minute, she’d realized a good partner didn’t do that. She didn’t have to be right; she had to be by his side. And if she could just slow him down for a minute or two…

  But Nolan hadn’t cared what she said or did. He stormed the building to a hail of gunfire. Jodi would have been shot, too, if the rest of the team hadn’t shown up right after that.

  A minute. That’s all it would have taken…

  Letting out a slow breath filled with remorse and the guilt she shouldn’t feel, she shook her head.

  No. Nolan would still be dead. He never would have given her that minute, no matter what she’d said. There would have been some excuse, some arrogant smart-ass comment…something that would have still had him through the door before backup arrived.

  It didn’t matter though because Jodi would always be tormented by her decision to sit in the car for those few precious seconds, haunted by the memory of how his body had flailed as the bullets cut him to ribbons.

  And now she had to have a new partner? Worse, she had to train one? What was she supposed to teach the guy? She didn’t know how to be someone’s partner; she’d already proven that.

  Doing this—training the new recruit—wouldn’t change anything. Or make what happened with Nolan okay somehow. Her partner had died, and she’d had to watch it happen, knowing one moment of trust would have saved his life. She would forever wonder if the problem had really been him.

  What if, at the end of the day, it was her? What if she’d never be able to have an actual partnership with someone where they could communicate and rely on each other—because she didn’t inspire that in people? Because she wasn’t assertive enough, or masculine enough, or whatever enough?

  She threw the rag back on the cart, her fingers just as dirty as when she’d started cleaning them. It left her feeling far too much like Lady MacBeth. Out damned spot.

  If she really needed a partner, why couldn’t Marron have hired another tech person and left the two of them alone with the machines? Gadgets didn’t bleed. They didn’t even argue. In fact, they practically begged her to fix them. She’d been brought into TRAIT because she was a genius with machines, not people. Hell, why couldn’t he just lock her up here? She spent most of her spare time in the garage anyway. It wouldn’t have taken much to set up a cot in her office.

  But no, he wanted her back in the field—whether in spite of or because of the new threat.

  Confident Marron was out of sight and earshot, she spun around and took out her frustrations on the convertible’s front bumper. Something inside clunked, and a high-pitched whine met her ears. Sighing, she popped the hood again. This, she could fix. All she’d needed to do was ask the right question, and the machine not only told her exactly what the problem was, but how to correct it, too.

  People weren’t that easy. Or at least men weren’t.

  Maybe she’d get lucky and her new partner would be a woman—at least she’d have personal knowledge of the basic operating system then.

  …

  Jesus, who the hell was the child? Finn walked into the warehouse to find himself confronted not by Marron but by some punk-ass kid with a buzz cut. To make matters worse, when the kid caught sight of him, he grinned and came over, sticking out his hand.

  “Damn, am I glad to see you. I was starting to think I was in the wrong place.”

  Finn stared the guy down. “Pretty sure you are. You can go now.”

  Laughing, the kid pulled back his fingers. “Got it. You’re one of them. Met a lot of you in the army, but it never gets old. Name’s Nico Tancredi. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you’d only throw up some bullshit barrier to try to show how much bigger and badder than me you are. So…not bothering.”

  Despite himself, Finn couldn’t help but smile. Nico might be young, but at least he wasn’t stupid. Still, could they really both be here for the same thing? They weren’t exactly two peas in a pod. “Finn Danby. Just to verify we’re both where we’re supposed to be…”

  “Silver Taurus. Silver, or at least silvering, fox, as the ladies would call him, behind the wheel. Super-secret stuff. ‘I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,’” Nico said in a voice best suited to clandestine operations, then winked as if it were all a game.

  This time Finn didn’t bother fighting and let out a laugh that echoed through the open space. “Can’t have that. What were you in anyway? The army, you said? Ranger? Expl
osive Ordnance Disposal? Sniper?” All Finn knew was he was glad the kid hadn’t been in his old unit.

  “I was pretty much whatever they needed that paid well and kept me out of shit.”

  “Huh?” Nico’s answer hadn’t made any sense. Then again, he still wasn’t sure anything about this new job offer did.

  This time when his voice went quiet, it actually did feel like a secret. “I have a bit of a gift. I’m really good at convincing people of things. If someone suggested I might make a good marriage counselor on base…I’d agree.”

  “And when they ask for your credentials?”

  “Depends on how they ask. Go on. Ask me a question. Anything.”

  This had to be a joke, and Finn was going to play along and treat it like one. Thinking back to the night in Afghanistan when things had gone so very wrong—ending his military career and the lives of far too many friends—he asked, “Have you ever killed a man?”

  “Not with a gun.” Nico’s face was impassive. A complete mask compared to its earlier good humor, one that came with an evil glint in his eye. It practically begged Finn to challenge the answer. As if Nico was looking for a fight—one that would end in blood.

  Whether or not he had killed anyone, Finn believed, and quite frankly the kid even managed to scare him a bit. “Damn.”

  The grin came back. “Yeah. Military sucked ass though. I did my tour of duty and didn’t bother re-upping. Then this fell into my lap.”

  Just like it had fallen into Finn’s. “Did the silvering fox give you some story about having a run-in with one of his other people?” Then he had a somewhat more sinister thought. If Marron had gotten him shit-canned… “And did you happen to lose a job recently?”

  “No and no. I wish the first one had been true though. Getting recruited because they actually saw you in action? That’d mean someone decided you were a badass.”

  Interesting perspective. If it was true, it meant they’d hired him because of the incident last week. Clearly, whatever Marron was doing, it had use for a head cracker like him as well as a mind fucker like Nico. What the hell was he getting into?

  The warehouse door opened, letting in a sliver of blinding sunlight interrupted only by the shadow of a man. “Good. You’re both here.” Marron stepped inside, yanking the door shut behind him. He crossed the space with determined strides. “I’m about to offer you an opportunity that rarely gets refused, but there are catches. The job is top secret—the kind of top secret where even bottom feeders like you have access to equipment and personnel the public doesn’t know exists. Your families won’t know what you do or where you go. Like our people themselves, we do the jobs that don’t quite fit any other agency’s purview. We are the unacknowledged redheaded stepchildren of the intelligence community. But we are also the best.”

  Is he trying to sell us on the job or convince us to walk the hell away?

  “There are two ways to leave this building, gentlemen. One is through the door behind you. You walk through and go back to your normal lives. If you leave through the one behind me, though, you’re going to get in my car and give up the life you know to serve your country. Choice is yours. Bus leaves in five.”

  Sales pitch done, Marron spun on his heel and walked away.

  Regardless of the vague details and questionable tactics, Finn didn’t need five minutes. He didn’t even need one. The intelligence community saved lives all the time, and Marron had specifically come to him because of his tendency to make decisions even if they went against orders. His footsteps followed in the echo of Marron’s.

  Whatever this job was, if they had a place for him, Finn was going to be the best agent they’d ever seen. Chicago would be sorry they were so fucking shortsighted as to shove him out the door. And, if he played his cards right, he wouldn’t even have to compromise to rise to the top.

  Chapter Two

  You Call Me a Bitch Like It’s a Bad Thing

  The visit to Marron’s office had been brief. Just long enough for him to check his emails. Then he escorted them to their new partners. Finn almost laughed aloud at the way Nico’s eyes had bugged out when the frazzled-looking blonde opened the door in the basement and ushered him inside. The urge was shattered when she proceeded to nod at Marron and then slam the door in their faces.

  “I bet she dates a lot.” Finn snorted as they started back up the stairs.

  Marron pulled up short. “That won’t fly around here, Danby. Greta’s personal life is none of your business, and she outranks you. The woman does things for us that no one else could do. A little respect is in order.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Poor Nico getting stuck taking orders from a woman like her? At least Finn had dodged that bullet and, if things worked out, he wouldn’t have to deal with Grouchy Greta until he’d moved up in the ranks. “Where are we headed?”

  Marron turned at the top of the stairs and led the way down a long, gray hall, passing doors with no identifying marks. “The garage.”

  Good sign. Cars were a little obsession of his. “And all these other rooms?”

  “Need to know.” Marron opened a huge slider on the opposite side of the hall and stepped into a garage that appeared to take up the entire back half of the building. Three other Tauruses identical to the one they’d ridden here in were parked along one wall with an array of SUVs, sports cars, and motorcycles filling the rest of the expanse. It was like a man’s playground. He could get used to this.

  “Damn it, Israel, where are you?” Marron strode toward what looked like offices at the other end of the garage and pointed at him. “Stay here.”

  “Sure thing.” It would give him time to check out the convertible in front of him. The Aston Martin had the hood popped for some kind of maintenance, but it definitely didn’t need any help in the cosmetics department. The thing was the kind of blue that spoke of speed and sexual attraction. He opened the door and slid behind the wheel onto leather that perfectly matched the exterior. “Bond. James Bond.”

  “What are you doing? Get out of Lois!” A skinny chick with flaming-red hair raced over, sliding her hands along the edges of the door before biting her lip and easing it open. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her. It wasn’t like he’d spent a lot of time outside the city in recent years—if he knew her it was probably from way back. “Out. Now.”

  “You named an electric blue Vanquish Volante Lois? Are you kidding me?” Finn didn’t budge from his seat. He didn’t know who the redhead was, but until Marron got back, he was staying right there.

  Of course, she was kind of cute with the way she clenched her fists and held her breath until her cheeks were as red as her hair. What he wouldn’t give to run his fingers through that mess of fire. Nope, he definitely would have remembered her if they’d met before.

  “She’s named after Lois Maxwell, the first woman to portray Miss Moneypenny. Now get your stupid self out of her before you totally wreck the coating I just put on the seats.”

  “Think maybe you could have put up a sign warning people about that?” Or maybe he would have done everything he could to forget the chick’s damn attitude—that would explain his lapse in memory. He shifted to put his hand on the doorframe.

  She grabbed his fingers before he laid a single one on the metal, and her touch was as hot as her hair, fire racing up his arm until he had no choice but to meet her green eyes. “I’d prefer you didn’t mess that up, either. And how about you thinking before you screw with equipment you know nothing about?”

  “I know exactly what a car is, doll.” He drew himself up, towering over her by nearly a foot.

  Planting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Obviously not or you’d know the Vanquish doesn’t come in electric blue. The color is ocellus teal. And if you ever get the chance to be on a mission where you drive Lois, you’ll need to know that because real aficionados would know. More than that, you’ll need to learn what does what because I’ve modified most of the cars in here. This isn’t a dealership. We’
re TRAIT. We have spy cars in the building—which means we don’t let arrogant newbies play in them.”

  Okay, that tore it. Finn wasn’t going to take crap from some skinny, little mechanic no matter how much he might like her spunk. He stepped forward, forcing her to crane her neck up or bury her face in his chest. Which, if he were honest, he wouldn’t have minded one bit. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I want your name so I can mention it to Marron next time we chat.” See how she liked those apples.

  She snorted a laugh. “You do that. My name’s Jodi Israel, and I’m your damn partner. Also, last I checked, I outrank you by years. You go right ahead and tell Marron how I called you out for screwing up in the first ten minutes. Better yet, why not get the whole team together and introduce yourself exactly like that. I’m sure it’ll go a long way toward proving what a stellar agent you’re going to be.”

  Fuck. A woman. Is that why he and Nico were recruited? Marron needed some testosterone in the damn building? She wasn’t backing down, not an inch. “Okay, mighty agent. What are you going to do about it? Report me?”

  “As much as I’d love to knock you off the high horse you seem rather fond of riding, I’ll let you ruin your career all on your own. After all, you have a pretty solid track record of that. In the meantime, go clean the tools over there.” She pointed toward a rack near an industrial metal sink and fume hood. “Just the tools. We’ll start your training after I fix your mess.”

  “Marron said I started with a clean slate here. You do not get to drag up my past.”

  She snorted and stepped toward her tool cart. “I don’t have your file. The internet’s fair game, though, and you were all over the wire in Chicago. Besides, I was there. I saw you attack those men. Why the hell Marron thought your behavior made you TRAIT material is beyond me, but you’re here and you’re my responsibility, so get to work.”

  Finn raked a hand through his hair. Great. Bottom of the food chain with a huffy partner—the exact kind who would balk at the way he did things. At least it finally clicked where he’d seen her before. She’d been all covered up because of the rain, but strands of her hair had peeked out from her hood when he’d told her to move her damn car that day. Had the call never come over the radio, he wouldn’t be here right now. He’d have either given her a parking ticket or made a move. He’d been debating the latter as she’d argued with him. Either way, he never would have seen her again. It seemed impossible he was here just because of a two-minute chance meeting.